Quiet
by QuasiOuster
Summary: This story takes place between seasons 3 and 4. Daryl and Michonne get to know each other better as they navigate the bleak world around them and handle their responsibilities within the group.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note: My beta threw some prompts at me to keep me writing while I have a bunch of stuff under her review. This series is the result. Please bear with the experimental nature of these musings. They're just character-based sketches where not much happens but it allows me to try out a few, less practiced writing techniques. There will be POV and scene shifts, of course and I'll post them all as I finish poking at them. **__**Also, these aren't beta'ed so I apologize for the mistakes I didn't catch.**_

_**Feedback is always welcome. Thanks for reading!**_

_**(I don't own any aspect of The Walking Dead although I reserve the right to cling forcefully to my original, and totally non-essential, characters.)**_

* * *

**Chapter 1: Woods**

As instructed, Bill and Jamie retraced their steps back to the prison at a brisk pace. They crept along the tree-line like they'd been taught and reached the car without incident. Michonne's eyes followed after them to check for any potential problems as they sped off. Seeing none, she refocused her attention to the man she'd left behind and ran back to the clearing where they'd all split up.

Daryl had loosened his pack and taken out the things he'd need to get back on the trail when Michonne rejoined him. He was as tense as she'd ever seen him, sweat beading at his brow and a determined aura about the way he methodically prepared himself. She'd seen nothing amiss either on her way to the car or on the way back. Theirs were the only sign of recent trespass and even that was slight. Instincts ignited, she scanned the area around them again while her mysterious companion prepared for the hunt.

With a jerk of his head, they went on the move.

When they'd set out from the prison earlier, it was Michonne who'd taken the lead having planned the best use of their time while they foraged for additional food and supplies. Daryl was the usual go-to guy in that department but even he had to concede that she'd spent more quality time in the surrounding area. However, she'd requested his presence specifically as a sign of respect and because he really was the ideal choice for the kind of operation she had in mind. Sasha and Tyreese were somewhat familiar with the area too but had laughed when Michonne proposed her little trip. They had no interest in roaming around the woods trying to scrape together necessities for survival.

But Bill and Jamie had volunteered for the adventure of it and were old enough to behave themselves and learn something. They'd both come from Woodbury and, until recently, hadn't really been exposed to the harsher aspects of surviving in the middle of nowhere. They'd been part of a large group that found Woodbury early on after being driven from a gated community that got overrun. On the one hand, it was nice that there were people, especially young people, who hadn't become overwhelmed by the horrors of this terrible new world. Yet there was also the pity of knowing that that horror would come at some point—and not wanting to be there when it happened.

The group had set out just after daybreak and made pretty good pace, hitting up a few of the farther-reaching but picked over stores. They'd also gotten a decent amount of wild herbs and foraged foods that both Daryl and Michonne knew to be useful.

It had been about time to call it a day when the run took an unexpected and swift turn.

A herd must have shifted the wildlife because Daryl started picking up fresh signs that live meat was in the vicinity. Within fifteen minutes, he'd bagged two rabbits and was convinced that there were deer not far away. The best part: no indication of major walker activity yet to taint their new-found food source.

Seamlessly, the group shifted priorities and Daryl took the lead. He would stay out and hunt with the expectation that he'd be gone for the entire night. Daryl wasn't convinced he'd be able to track the deer in the approaching dusk, however, waiting overnight would lull any targeted wildlife into a false sense of safety and allow him to pick them off first thing in the morning. He couldn't afford to waste time or momentum going back to the prison. Michonne had assumed his preference was to hunt alone but he surprised her by insisting he needed another set of hands if he ended up capturing as much game as he seemed confident of. So he ordered the two newbies back to the prison after loading them down with their haul. Michonne escorted them as close to where they'd stashed the car as she dared, leaving Daryl to scope out the area in her absence. The teens would return the next day with an adult and wait for them.

When it had come time to lay down that plan, Daryl hadn't hesitated about his choice of partner.

* * *

Michonne sat idly in her elevated nook overlooking the wooded expanse. It was an excellent view of the area surrounding them, empty except for the insects or rodents lucky enough to escape walkers and survivors alike.

It also gave her a nice view of the silent man resting just below her. She smiled, recalling his annoyance that she was at a higher vantage point than him. But the perch she was on was a little more weight-sensitive and the larger man had to settle for the stronger junction beneath her.

Michonne had done some creative things to keep herself safe when she'd been on the move. Sleeping in trees was one of her least favorite.

Their gear hung nearby, both above and below where they were nestled, all within fairly easy reach if trouble found them. As much as she'd grumbled about it, Michonne actually felt quite safe being so high up and being able to see everything around them. Daryl got to look out for any game prospects and she got to spend a little less time worrying about the wandering undead that could sneak up on her—or the living but unstable creatures also afoot.

The signs of the nightfall were more soothing than either was used to hearing. Being out in the open like this, it made Michonne feel different somehow from when she was on her own, her "pets" her only companions; or even those strangely comforting months of traveling with Andrea. The natural sounds of leaves rustling and bugs chirping were a noted contrast to the cacophony of civilization back at the prison. There, it was always obvious that they were sheltering themselves from something. The sterile, hollow prison hallways couldn't mask the fear and desperation that they constantly lived with. Yet it was home and they were grateful for it.

It was interesting how the both of them blended into the noises around them, hoping to be included as one of nature's regulars. The air had a bite to it but it wasn't truly cold. It would be in a month or so. Tonight was more long-sleeved shirt kind of weather and they had both come prepared.

Michonne glanced again at her traveling companion. He seemed tired but alert; and relaxed, if that were even possible for him. In his element. His eyes were sweeping their surroundings just like hers had a moment before.

As it sometimes happened when she had idle time, Michonne wondered so many things about him. They didn't know each other well but they got along, both content to keep their interactions with the group as simple and uncomplicated as possible. People trusted him. She trusted him too she supposed, at least as much as she trusted anyone and probably only at a minimal level; not nearly as much as the core group members with whom he'd survived since the beginning. Even though he put on a hard exterior, he really cared about his chosen family and keeping them safe, especially since losing his brother. It didn't take a psychiatrist to acknowledge the complexity of the Dixon brothers' relationship. But Daryl had never given up on Merle, right to the end.

Yet, he and Rick were like brothers too. And Carol, well, there was something important there as well. Michonne made it a point to observe the people around her and she initially thought the two had a thing going on. After a while, she wasn't so sure.

It was a piece of information she filed away for unknown reasons. Or unacknowledged, rather.

She was sure Daryl knew even less about her: that she had travelled with Andrea after his group had fled Hershel's farm and that whatever had gone on with them had been deep. Whenever her time with Andrea came up, the hanging assumption was that the two women had been lovers. Michonne wasn't offended by the suggestion. She could see it given how they sure as hell acted like it with the way they'd fought. And if that weren't evidence enough, the way they'd mourned together before Andrea died would have convinced anyone. She remembered how gentle Daryl had been with Andrea at the end—and how gentle he'd been with her in his own way afterwards. He understood because his loss was fresh too.

The rumors were also a little odd to Michonne since the suggestion of romance didn't seam right either. Her sense of betrayal, Andrea's urgency to justify herself, and both women's tears over useless remorse had always hinted at a connection that went beyond sex or friendship. The matter was moot at this point. It wasn't anyone's business what her past was anyhow.

And when it came to someone like Daryl, she doubted it was something that mattered much to him.

He was a straightforward guy but so inaccessible. How had he come to be that way? Had he always been such a mystery or, like her, had he been an entirely different person before the world went to shit.

When she wondered all those things about him, she couldn't help but occasionally consider if he thought of her too.

"You see anything?" The inquiry was the softest of breaths in the breeze, reaching Michonne's ear in the form of a whisper. Michonne didn't let the surprise at the sound of his voice startle her too much. In the dimness, she saw him take one last look towards the fading rays of sunlight and shake his head. If he'd noticed her scrutiny of him, he didn't let on.

Michonne eyed the same pattern of weak spots she'd identified before they'd ascended to their hiding spot. "Nothing for miles. You?"

"Not a damn thing," he responded just as quietly, head tilted up to project his words to her. "I'm grateful for it too."

Michonne nodded. He pulled a bit of dried fruit from his bag and chewed on a piece absentmindedly. After a moment's hesitation, he offered up a piece to Michonne with the raise of a hand. In the same swift, subtle way with which she always moved, Michonne relieved him of the offered snack.

* * *

Michonne and Daryl sat in that manner for a while, companionable and casually wary as they watched the sky growing several shades of dark. The forest transformed into murky shadows yet the stars brightly illuminated the elevated world most accessible to their vantage point at the moment. The tops of the trees felt solid and real underneath the moon's light. If the wrong kind of predator were to stumble upon them, it wouldn't be too much trouble to track their enemy with such clear visibility; not that they were expecting it. They hadn't seen signs of anyone near this area or even the adjacent stretch of land. Daryl proposed a watch schedule anyway. It was probably unnecessary but both thought it a valid precaution.

As the evening went on, Michonne wondered if Daryl had felt her earlier, periodic attention on him. It occurred to her that he might be pretty uncomfortable with it given that they weren't exactly buddies. Did he think she didn't trust him or didn't take him seriously? Maybe he thought she still felt sorry for him about his brother. They'd made their piece with the fact that she'd been the last to see him alive. As awful as Merle was and as difficult as he had made her life, she felt that Daryl deserved to know what the man had revealed to her before the end.

Michonne was quite aware of how uncomfortable she made people; it wasn't easy for others to interpret why she did the things she did. Her notice wasn't meant to offend. She'd convinced herself that she had only been thinking they didn't know each other well and now she worried that he was misinterpreting her less than subtle assessment. There was an urge to set him straight about her. And the things that caught her attention were usually worth a damn.

Michonne frowned. She wasn't one for letting her concerns linger. Maybe she should make an effort with him. After all, Daryl was many useful things but being a social self-starter was a little beyond his skill-set.

"Hey, Daryl, why'd you want me to stay out here with you?"

Directness seemed the most natural approach. They had that trait in common so maybe he'd appreciate the tactic. Besides, Michonne really did want to know.

But saying it out loud unleashed another complication, another justification for her interest. There was the curiosity, yes; she'd been honest with herself about that from the beginning. But she was also slowly coming to terms with an underlying motivation, one that was harder for her to admit: her attraction to him. All the musing and scrutiny was bound to lead to that basic compulsion. The woman in her that remembered what romantic desire felt like was fishing for a sign. If his acceptance of her company was an indication that maybe he'd be interested in … something … then she was feeling bold enough to ask about what she wanted. It was a risky move given how closed off the man was but they had nothing but time up in their tree.

To her surprise, he just shrugged and kept sweeping his eyes across the field of trees; so nonchalant while she tried to keep herself from giving a damn about his response. "You're quiet and that works for me. Can't have a bunch of eager young'uns talking my ear off and scaring the food. 'Sides, those two don't know shit about roughing it."

It was sound reasoning. Michonne decided to turn his response around in her head so she could figure out if it was what she wanted to hear.

"Well, I do know about rough. I imagine we both do." Her words sounded desperate to her own ears, needy for a connection. She heard his sigh, felt it move the leaves closest to her leg.

She thought Daryl was going to say something more but he remained silent. He briefly looked up her way before facing forward again. She didn't know what to make of that. Finally, he shifted his head to her side of the tree but didn't try to respond with his direct attention. "Why'd you pick me to come out here in the first place?" It was almost as if he hadn't known what to do with her question and his best response was to test the waters himself and turn things back around on her.

Did she let herself believe that he really had been wondering about her as well?

Michonne didn't reply right away. Back inside the prison walls, her thoughts on the matter had been less complicated. That was before she'd loosened her usual hold on her feelings. She wasn't sure how much she should reveal; how far she should take it. Isolated in the middle of nowhere, Michonne wondered how she and Daryl would seem to someone looking down on them. It was just the two of them out here. Survivors. Broken people who liked silence and simple; who only wanted the people they cared about to be safe.

Beneath her, Daryl sat waiting for an answer to his question, a touch tensely if she read him correctly. She inwardly cursed herself for now almost certainly making him uncomfortable, probably for the second or third time that night. That's not what she'd intended. He wasn't about mind games and neither was she. Perhaps, like her, he just really wanted to know and had the balls to ask.

Michonne hadn't survived this long by playing it safe so why start now?

The air shifted and within seconds, she considered him as he watched her leg descend from its perch above him. It landed solidly and then bent towards the branch extending from the area of his left hip. It was joined by her other leg left to dangle in between the trunk of the tree and the intersection of his right hip and thigh. In three seconds flat, she'd gone from lazily tucked away above him to straddling his body, all while barely making a sound.

It was impulsive, confusing and exhilarating all at once.

Daryl swallowed roughly as she settled against him and positioned herself to sit face to face. The stress started to show as the normally steady walker-killer panicked. He seemed at a loss for what to do with a woman in his rarely invaded personal space, especially one as deadly as she.

A flash of doubt crossed Michonne's expression as she felt Daryl fumble around with his hands, first reaching for her hips and then her back before pulling them away as if it would burn. To steady himself, he secured his body by grabbing the trunk of the tree and the nearest branch to one of her legs.

There were so many reasons why this was a bad idea. Yet the few good reasons had come to her quickly and powerfully. She wouldn't be the person she was if she didn't follow her instincts and stick by her decisions.

Michonne risked looking directly into Daryl's face and almost laughed at the terrified expression. She could work with that.

He hadn't asked her to move and the fear on his face wasn't accompanied by anger. In fact, his breathing had intensified judging by the dramatic rise and fall of his chest. She placed her hand there and felt the hitch before he settled down.

When she again chanced a peek at his face, the terror was still there and it had been joined by, of all things, amusement. Despite the tightness in her chest at the promise of that, Michonne wasn't completely sure how to take it. She cocked her head to the side in thought. Was he laughing at the situation or was he laughing at her? She tensed at the fleeting anxiety over that rejection.

Daryl gingerly moved his hand from the trunk of the tree to the crook of her hip. Michonne closed her eyes at his touch, breathing out a sigh she'd been holding since she'd mounted him.

Resting his other arm across her back, he waited for her to open her eyes and meet his gaze again. "Can't say I saw this comin' when I got up this mornin'; sittin' up in a damn tree with a sword-swingin' warrior woman on my lap." Slowly, he allowed a timid grin to spread across his lips and she mirrored the gesture. They let that hang between them for a few moments.

Daryl broke the connection with a self-conscious glance downward. "Aint much lately could put a smile on my face. It feels good."

The night's natural glow highlighted the transformation of Michonne's face from stoic reserve to pleasantly predatory. She sensed a shift in her emotional equilibrium upon hearing his modest admission. It was damn satisfying when a risk paid off. Feeling the firmness of his body against hers and his acceptance of her embrace, she gave into a whim of pleasure for the first time in a long time.

She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, Daryl's warm hand resting against her side.

There was no hesitation, only action. It was the only way Michonne knew. Daryl was motionless against her, but only for a moment. He trailed his arm further along her body to grip her thigh and leaned into her kiss with a shyness that humbled Michonne as much as it fed her attraction to him.

It wasn't the most ideal time or place for a tryst, yet it didn't hinder the two, solitary souls surrendering pieces of themselves on a crisp, late summer night.

Michonne pulled away first and rested her head against Daryl's; both were attempting to catch his or her breath. Again, her eyes fluttered closed, overwhelmed by the power of her closeness to him. Daryl's hands had yet to wander from where they started but he overcame his nerves and tilted his head up to brush his lips against hers again, lingering at her mouth while she ran gentle fingers through his hair. When he finally released her, Michonne's eyes opened, fully focused on him. His expression was softer than she expected. That fierceness to his bright eyes was still present but the tenderness was a welcome addition.

They didn't speak or move for a while, remaining intertwined as they stole a few more indulgences from their unexpected evening of peace.

When Michonne finally rose up to remove her legs from straddling him, Daryl followed the line of her limbs with his hands, letting her know that the feeling of them around him would be missed. But she didn't go far. Instead of returning to her perch above him, in a silent maneuver, she simply flipped her body around to climb into his lap and lean against his body. They both inspected the security of the area again, Michonne having assessed their rear position as she turned; all was as quiet as it was before the earth had shifted for her.

They adjusted and secured themselves, repositioned and reevaluated, all within the space of a few minutes. When their movements stilled, Michonne felt Daryl wrap an arm around her waist while the other rested beside their bodies within easy reach of his weapon. She re-strapped her katana and curled into his embrace.

Their acceptance of this intimacy was as imperfect as it was necessary.

* * *

Daryl was on first watch, so Michonne let her mind drift. There was plenty for her to process, the comfort, the panic, the desire and hesitancy. Yet all that chaos had a calming wonder to it that was quite relaxing. For once, she thought she might actually get some peaceful sleep—up in a tree in the middle of nowhere Georgia with a hillbilly hero who had captured her interest.

She sensed the movement of his head as he looked down on her, perhaps checking to see if she was sleeping. She wasn't.

"Can I ask you a question?"

Michonne smiled. It was funny how close they found themselves now even though they had hardly spoken more than a few sentences to each other in the last several hours.

"Why not? It's not like either of us is going anywhere." Plus, she was a little curious what he thought about all this even if she was a little afraid of his response.

Daryl sighed. "I aint complainin' or nothin' but what got into you just now?"

It was difficult to anticipate the answer that would continue to make all this feel right. And she realized with a sure swiftness that she wanted that. She hoped he would want it as well.

Michonne massaged the arm that held her, adjusting the cuff of his shirt before taking his hand in hers. His grip was solid and steady.

"I guess your quiet works for me too."

When he placed a soft kiss at the crown of her head, she let her eyes drift close in slumber.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Boots**

A sharp chill had settled into the hallways of the prison. If there was a system for reinforcing some insulation in the building, someone was going to have to think of it soon. The cold was manageable now. However, the true winter months might turn miserable if they weren't more proactive about climate control.

As Daryl walked from one cell block to the next, he saw more people milling around than usual. Nobody wanted to be outside if they didn't have to be. Breakfast had been crowded this morning too as a result. A few kids came running down the stairs from the upper level to rush past him to the mess hall. Daryl grinned at the youngest of the bunch who narrowly missed ramming into him following after the others. Hopefully, there was still some left for the young stragglers who'd slept in.

Picking up his pace, he simply nodded a greeting at Hershel. The elder man was making his way towards the exit, no doubt doing his morning rounds with the crop preparation and livestock areas. A prison yard was a sad replacement for a farm but Hershel and Rick were making a good go of it. Daryl was pretty impressed even if he had been skeptical about the idea at first.

As he slowed past one of the cells used for storage, he saw a few heaping piles of material overflowing off the cot and onto the floor. That was probably from Carol cataloguing the last of the winter gear. At the very least, there would be an abundance of coats, blankets, socks, hats and gloves thanks to a well-coordinated run a few days back. If it came down to confining people indoors and giving everyone five layers to wear, then so be it. Right now, as long as everyone was accounted for in the supply numbers it seemed manageable. There was no telling how mentally prepared people were for the weather though.

The core group of survivors from Atlanta remembered what it was like being on the move during the cold months, not always sure they'd find shelter that would keep out the worst of the weather. They set the tone for everyone else in keeping spirits up about their winter survival. Like the former residents of Woodbury, Tyrese and Sasha had still been in their former gated community for most of the winter so their months of surviving on the road hadn't prepared them for what was to come. Probably the person who had it the worst was Michonne being on the move with only Andrea for company and protection, and for the latter part of their travels, pretty sick to boot. But if she was feeling either nervous or optimistic about the upcoming cold weather, she was keeping it to herself like she did most things.

He didn't linger at the storage cache, even though he knew Carol was around and would be looking for him later. She and Beth wanted him to help carry some of that stuff from the storage cell to wherever it needed to go. He'd put it off yesterday but promised to meet them later and take care of it. Carol could always get him to do annoying tasks like this that nobody else wanted to do so he made sure he'd been grumpy about agreeing to the errand. But he was happy to help out when it was needed—and Carol was probably wise to that fact too. He couldn't have everyone knowing that though or he'd get stuck doing all kinds of bullshit jobs. There had been enough of that back in the days when Rick and Shane had been running the show.

So Daryl kept on walking, not bothering to look for Carol. He was on watch later that afternoon but there were a few projects around the prison, including hers, that he thought he might get to before then. And he needed to make a stop right now and it wasn't clear how much time it would occupy in his loose schedule.

Rounding the corner, he could hear the noise on the block fade out. Not many people came down this way, both because there wasn't much important in this direction and because the people occupying the cells tended to be the night owls of the group and were resting at this hour of the day.

And one particular night owl was on his mind.

Michonne had come off of overnight watch about an hour ago. It wasn't unusual for them to miss each other at breakfast but he hadn't shared a meal with her all week and had gotten up early to catch her before she went to sleep. When she didn't show up, he got curious about what she'd gotten into. Rick reported at breakfast that the walkers had bunched up along the edge of the southern fence line. It hadn't been anything he and Michonne couldn't handle but it had involved more work than the usual guard duty. Daryl hoped she hadn't gone poking around the grounds after her shift to suss out any more security problems. She did stuff like that sometimes: went of by herself to handle some kind of trouble or group business. He didn't used to mind as much but things had changed lately.

A few weeks had passed since their trip out in the woods. They'd come back with a deer, a slew of squirrels and rabbits and an entirely new relationship with each other.

It had been a surprise when she came on to him but it was one that he'd pretty quickly figured out was the good kind. Leaving the prison that morning, he hadn't thought much about the company he was keeping. He didn't mind having the kids underfoot because it gave them a chance to learn something useful. And he was finding that he didn't mind teaching them since it would help the group if the young ones learned more about surviving. As for Michonne, he was used to going on runs with her from time to time although she'd never asked for him personally before. They had done pretty well as a small group that day.

But when he came across the promise of some fresh meat, it was game on. His instincts kicked in and it had been only a minor concern that he'd be stuck outside of the prison with the most mysterious member of their group. As the day closed and time crept by, he realized that he kind of enjoyed her companionship. She didn't talk unnecessarily but was still good company; she made him feel like he wasn't out there alone trying to prove himself. They were in it together.

He got them settled in their tree and as the sky darkened and the night approached, he occupied his thoughts with keeping alert for signs of animals and enemies alike. Only occasionally did he wonder about the woman above him. He had observed repeatedly that she could take care of herself.

And then out of nowhere she was sitting in his lap, hand across his chest and triggering all kinds of fears and pleasures he hadn't had to deal with in a long time.

It's not like he hadn't thought about her like that before. He welcomed her directness and courage; he'd noticed her moments of softness, usually when she was with Carl or on the rare occasion someone mentioned Andrea. That respect and admiration he felt for her was appealing; the strength he sensed in her was a pull towards what he saw as the best parts of himself. He didn't understand it at the time but it was the start of his attraction to her. She was a survivor like he was. He wouldn't put money on anyone else in the prison lasting out there in the wild, now crawling with walkers. Yet he'd never bet against Michonne.

But at the time, Daryl hadn't thought much of those sort of feelings. He wasn't the kind of guy to go around looking for love or even sex. All that shit did was get you worked up and play with your mind. It could get you killed. He could admit that he cared about his new family, would look out for Hershel and Beth, fight alongside Glenn and Maggie, treat Rick and his family as if they were his own. The relationship that had grown between himself and Carol was kind of complicated but he loved her in his own way. Losing her would be as bad as losing Merle because she'd given a damn about him when no one else had. They'd been through a lot together with looking for Sophia and him thinking she was dead those few early days in the prison. So he vowed to make sure she was never in harms way again.

Even all the new folks, Tyreese and his sister, the people from Woodbury, he'd watch out for them too because that's the kind of man he was now. He protected people.

Michonne was hard to pin down though. She didn't need his protection. Hell, she'd take any man or walker out before he even know they were there. So if she didn't look to him for protection, he'd back her up the best way he could. And after their time alone together, he discovered how much more that was turning out to be.

It wasn't him looking to be close to someone; it was her asking if he wouldn't mind sharing something with her. He liked it now that he'd gotten a taste of her.

As Daryl got closer to his destination, he confirmed that the few cells along her row were empty. He hadn't expected anyone to be around but he checked anyway. They weren't going at it hot and heavy or anything but neither liked having an audience when they were together. Their "relationship" was mainly company during mealtimes most days and a few mildly intimate encounters from time to time. They'd learned that a more secure prison had a few nooks they could make use of if they found a convenient excuse to sneak away together for a minute or two. They talked some too, not about the past because neither was too keen on that subject. But he learned a lot more about who she was now and became more comfortable talking about himself too. He liked being close to her in a way that was different than everyone else. There wasn't a lot of pressure or expectation when they were together. Maybe that's what he was anticipating as he made his way to see her. They tried to be rather private about the whole thing. Yet they weren't casual enough to bypass the teasing that had already started, especially from Carol and Glenn who became the most likely to catch them in a compromising state. Carol's jibes tended to be more wary of Michonne being as protective as she was of him. But Glenn was getting a bit of revenge for how much grief he and Maggie took over their courtship.

When he at last stepped into her cell, Michonne was already on her cot, covers loosely draped across her. It looked like all she'd gotten into was some sleep after an eventful watch. He stopped just inside the entrance to lean against the bars. Not for the first time since the'd started with each other, Daryl had to decide whether he should go in further or turn around and retreat.

He watched over her, disappointed because he had hoped to catch her still awake so they could catch up. There was a brief impulse to steal a kiss at least before leaving but he was afraid of waking her. She did look tired and he had things he could be doing elsewhere. It would have been nice to spend some time together but it would have to wait a little longer. Pushing himself away from against the cell bars, he glanced over at her again and sighed.

"Did you come all the way down here to stare at me for a while before sneaking off."

He should have known he couldn't get this near without tripping her instincts.

"Didn't see ya at breakfast. Thought I'd check on ya." Daryl shifted around a little not knowing what else he could say to justify his silent presence in her cell.

Michonne turned from lying on her back to her side and scrutinized her guest. She wasn't mad. If anything she was amused at how nervous he would get when put on the spot. He was shuffling from one foot to the other and his gaze wavered from her face to everywhere but.

Surprising him, a foot poked out from under her blanket and nudged the chair at the foot of her bed in his direction. "You've already woken me up; you may as well stay for a while."

"Didn't mean to wake ya up," Daryl said, making no move towards the chair. "I heard ya had a rough night and was seein' if you was alright."

When she smiled it finally caught his attention enough to focus his gaze on her face again. "You're checking on me, huh?" Daryl swiveled around, now leaning a shoulder against the bars enclosing them. A muffled clink reverberated in the cell as his crossbow hit the steel of the entryway. He shrugged and looked down but still didn't take the seat offered. "That's kind of nice, actually." Michonne nudged the chair again with her foot, moving it even closer to where Daryl was standing. "It's been a while since anyone came checking on me and it wasn't for suspicious reasons."

If this was his signal that she was up for entertaining, he wasn't going to turn her down. It's what he wanted when he set out to find her. Daryl removed himself from the cell frame and took a few steps towards her before taking a seat. He twisted off his crossbow and lay it beside the chair. Finally, he crossed his legs and grinned at her in that way he knew Michonne loved. "Wouldn't say I aint suspicious."

From where he sat, he was close enough to see her face but was also mostly blocked from the view of anyone passing by because of the drapery that obscured the side of the cell that she slept in. With her nocturnal schedule, it was useful for keeping the light out and it helped with privacy too. If they were going to have moments like they were having right now, relaxed and sparking with an intimate energy, they sure as hell didn't want other people privy to it.

"You _are_ alright, aint'cha?" Daryl asked trying to be as casual as possible.

Michonne raised an eyebrow at his concern and he chuckled. Of course she was alright.

"You wanna check me over for scratches? Neither Rick or I noticed anything but a second opinion might not hurt."

It was Daryl's turn to fix her with a surprised expression. "Rick, huh? He get a good look at'cha, did he?"

This time it was Michonne who shrugged from underneath her blanket. She didn't offer any further explanation though.

"Knowin' Rick, I'm sure he took good care 'a ya." Daryl wouldn't admit it to her but he liked the teasing between them. He probably wouldn't enjoy her giving him a hard time all the time. But to have her challenge him every once in a while was kind of exciting. There wasn't anything going on between Michonne and Rick, of course. That rumor had spread around a while back and he had definitely brought it up a few times to get underneath her skin. He couldn't blame her for turning it around on him for once.

Michonne's foot poked out from underneath her blanket again and she placed it on his knee. She was wearing thick socks, probably two pair judging by the weight against his leg. Her boots were sitting towards the head of the bed, ready for her to slip back on in an emergency. It wasn't until recently that she slept without wearing them underneath the covers like he did. But it was a testament to how much better she felt being a part of the group that she allowed herself the luxury.

"I wouldn't say that he took _good_ care of me, but we made sure neither of us would be turnin' come sun up."

Daryl gently grasped Michonne's ankle and made to peek into the pants leg that he'd untucked from her sock. "Glad to hear it." A small smile played across his lips. Instead of inspecting her for walker scratches, he tickled her shin before resting his fingers against the skin there.

They sat like that for a while, listening to the faint sounds of prison life around them. Tyreese and a couple other people were repairing some of the barriers a group of walkers had broken a few days ago. They heard Carol and Beth across the block leading a group of kids to the upper level for their daily lessons. A half a dozen cells away, an occasional snore would reach their ears, probably Lillian, another member of the night watch group.

Daryl glanced over to the top of Michonne's bed; she was resting her head against her folded arm watching him intently as he massaged her calf. While her eyes were alert, he could see that she was tired. Pulling his hand away, Daryl put Michonne's foot back on the bed and covered it up.

"Didn't mean to mess up your sleepin'. I'm 'a get up outta here."

Michonne shot her foot out again, lightning fast, and pressed it against his knee to stop him from rising. "You're not messing up my sleep." Her other foot revealed itself and she wrapped both around his leg coaxing it towards her. "Why don't you stay a while, make yourself comfortable?"

Looking around to buy himself some time, Daryl noticed just how dim it was in the cell. He could make out Michonne lying on her cot but she was mostly in shadow. He had a fondness for seeing her that way, maybe because he had to concentrate to read her expression or because, in shadow, he knew he could hide his own vulnerable response to her. Or maybe he liked it because that's how she had looked to him the first time they'd kissed.

Still, he wasn't sure what he could gain by sticking around now. He wanted to be with her and it was difficult to know what move to make now that he'd admit to that desire. And she had offered knowing that taking things to the next level wasn't ever going to be his strong suit. As much as he liked her, it was also a little scary to be alone with her like this—secluded and unlikely to be disturbed for a while. Considering the things he wanted to do with her, his next move was a lot to process. She said to make himself comfortable but did that mean kick up his feet and hang out? Or did it mean crawling into the bed next to her, which is what his hormones were screaming for him to do.

Better to play it safe. He had no interest in getting his ass kicked for being too fresh with her. "Wouldn't wanna get your blanket all dirty wit' my boots."

Michonne narrowed her eyes at him as if questioning his words. It made him so uncomfortable, he had to look away.

"I can guarantee you that my blanket's seen worse. But if you're worried about it, you can take your boots off."

She wanted him to take his boots off. Just like that, she wanted him to kick back and pretend like the world wasn't raging in madness beyond the fences of their prison home. He couldn't could he? He didn't do that kind of thing.

Daryl stared down at Michonne's boots resting about a foot away from where he sat. It was strange that she would find enough peace to cross that barrier. She's the last one he would have suspected.

And if she could do it …

Daryl reached down and unlatched the top of his left boot, feeling Michonne's feet brush against his arm as they retreated back to her bunk. Pulling apart the weathered leather, he slowly loosened this standard outer covering, considering and reconsidering what he was about to do with this woman. He pulled the boot from his foot and felt the instant rush of cool air surround it. It's not like it was an unfamiliar sensation. He washed and changed his clothes and cleaned his shoes as much as the next person in this post-civilized world. But it was always a temporary thing, a quick change until he could get back into his routine. He placed his lone boot next to hers, facing the opposite direction and barely touching, sole to sole. Reaching down to loosen the other boot, it sunk in what this meant for the two of them, this trust and closeness and willingness to accommodate a request sincerely expressed. The second boot met the other, more quickly discarded than the first.

When he met Michonne's eyes again, they were a little more hooded in exhaustion than before but brighter, more relaxed. Daryl propped his feet up onto her bunk and worked his toes underneath her covers to meet the rough material of her thick pants and socks. When his feet found their target, he laughed as she grabbed them in between her calves and pinned him to her. He wasn't going to protest.

"Get some sleep, will ya." Michonne smiled at his playful order and closed her eyes briefly. She rubbed their legs together under the cover and he leaned over to adjust the blanket so that none of the cold air could creep in from where his body extended from the bed.

She followed his every move, tracking him silently. When he was done adjusting to their new position, she sighed. "You could have joined me up here, you know."

The admission surprised Daryl. He'd thought playing it safe had been the way to go. Now there was a small tinge of regret at his caution. He was comfortable though, and she looked it too so maybe it was fine. He wondered if she had read the doubt in his body language. Knowing her, probably and then some.

"Should'a said somethin' then, woman. I aint no mind-reader." Michonne pretended to hate it when he called her 'woman' which was why he said it all the time now. And despite his harsh words, she was chuckling at his reaction to her admission. "Don't chu worry none. Next time, I'll be on ya. You won't even have to ask twice." There was humor in his words but also a seriousness as he met her gaze square and steady.

In reply, her satisfied expression spoke of promises to keep. Her eyes drifted close.

Daryl picked up his crossbow and lay it across his lap. With the sound of her breathing as company, he grabbed his stash of arrows to give them a past due cleaning. He had been meaning to check each mechanism on the weapon for any sluggishness. Now was as good a time as any.

"Daryl?"

His head popped up at the sound of her voice but her eyes remained closed when he looked her way.

"Yeah, babe?" When he saw her smile at the endearment, it brought one to his face too.

She shifted underneath the covers, running her foot across his ankle in a soft caress. "Thanks for checking on me."

Daryl returned her caress with one of his own wool-covered feet. "Anytime."

Like he could ever stay away now.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Whispers**

Michonne's footsteps made the softest of sounds as she wandered along the catwalk towards her cell block. She tightened her scarf and tucked the strap of her katana underneath her collar.

Watch had been uneventful but it was still an adjustment getting used to a swing night watch. It had been Glenn and Daryl's idea to mix things up in case anyone was monitoring the prison and looking for weaknesses in their routine. So now instead of a full night's watch like before, it was split into first and second shifts. There was no indication of a threat yet but the Governor was still out there somewhere and they'd seen signs last week of a group passing a little too close to their territory. Better safe than sorry.

Michonne had been left with first shift, not ideal but she didn't mind much—or, at least, she didn't mind when her relief was on time, unlike tonight. Lillian's tardiness was understandable and only slightly irritating. Some people were going to struggle with changes in routine more than others.

Despite the delay, Michonne did her usual, post-watch rounds of the prison to assure herself that all was quiet and secure.

There was nothing amiss when she strolled through the mess hall. The only anomaly was that a few people had left their dirty dishes on one of the tables; Michonne moved them to the sink area. Whoever was on kitchen duty in the morning wasn't going to be happy.

The library was similarly quiet and deserted, but that was nothing new. Mostly it was used for the occasional group meeting. If folks were going to linger someplace around the prison, the preference was for a more open space with a greater number of exits. On the other hand, Carl thought it was the most normal place in the entire prison so he was a frequent visitor. She smiled thinking of her youngest friend. Ever since their trip back to his hometown, she'd found kindred spirits in both him and his father. They were wounded souls marred by unbelievable decisions made out of love. Yet they'd found a way to go on in the world thanks to a keen determination in the face of weariness. It was comforting to have people with whom she could heal.

The walk-through of the library and thoughts of Carl also reminded her that she had "kid duty" at the end of the week. She'd need to come back and pick up some new books for her lesson. There were a lot of raised eyebrows when she'd volunteered for that rotation. Everyone was used to seeing her as this stoic walker-killer and she didn't do much to disabuse people of that notion. Glorified babysitting didn't seem like it was in her wheelhouse. But like everyone else, she'd had another life once; being around the kids helped her remember part of it. And she had loved that part more than anything else. It came out of her when she was with the kids.

Many members of the group developed further suspicions about her upon witnessing this temporary transformation; only a few knew the actual, tragic facts.

There wasn't a whole lot of lecturing going on during her kid duty. She encouraged them to take books from the library and then write about them or come back to the group with questions. They spent a lot of time discussing whether many of the stories they read had any bearing on their lives now. Some of the things the kids said caused her to mourn for their youth. The killing and dying were so routine now, not that this hadn't been the case for millions of kids around the world before this thing with the walkers came about. But Michonne was adamant that even though civilization had changed, that didn't mean that people should forget some of the most fundamental aspects of humanity beyond survival skills. Learning and thinking for oneself were just as important.

Leaving the library, she shifted her inspection towards her home-base. It's where most of Andrea's group, as she thought of them, kept their quarters. There were a few additional people such as herself but the majority were the original occupiers of the prison turned commune. The first familiar landmark appeared in the distance; the stairwell to the upper level. She looked around for signs of movement then ascended the steps in silence.

Most of the cells were unoccupied. It had just turned out that way with most people settling downstairs, perhaps feeling less cornered at ground level. The extra cells instead housed various workstations or excess supplies. Michonne slowed her approach as she reached one of the central cells and peeked in on the heaped mass against the wall.

Daryl.

He'd come to visit her in her cell a while back after she'd gotten off of watch, mostly because he'd heard that she'd had a rough night. He'd even admitted as much which was surprising given how closed-off he could be. Maybe she was getting soft when it came to him but she'd thought it incredibly sweet. They were both loners and, despite the change in their affections for one another, she didn't want him to feel pressured to be anything but himself. He understood that too and yet he'd come anyway.

The more shocking turn of events was when he accepted her offer to stay with her while she slept. She hadn't really thought in her mind how that would actually work but when he put his feet up to join hers, she shared his disappointment that they'd both been too afraid to go for what they really wanted.

They didn't make that mistake in their following encounters, though. He _was_ making her go soft … and she rather liked that.

Recently, she'd started creeping by when making her rounds, careful not to wake him but satisfied to see that he was safely tucked away. It was comforting to see the variations of his routine each night: he kept his coat hanging on the bedpost and a stash of arrows could always be spotted on the upper bunk on top of his poncho or bundled in the corner if they were soiled. The chair by his bed usually had one or both crossbows leaning against it. His favorite crossbow was there now a few inches from his bundled form, waiting for him to grab if necessary.

She turned her head away from his hovel to look down onto the rest of the cell block. At the higher vantage point, she was able to scrutinize the entire lower area for any security concerns. The block reflected its usual still life save for the few sounds that drifted in from outside. The wind was howling particularly loudly tonight and the snorers were having at it due to the collective sinus problems and allergies going around. Every now and again, you could hear someone dramatically shifting in their sleep or banging an appendage against the wall. It was everything she had become accustomed to at the longest place she'd settled since all the madness started.

A fleeting pressure hit her foot and Michonne instantly raised her arm to pull out her katana while taking a step back. Annoyance and a deadly focus welled up in her.

Looking down, she noticed that the object at her feet was a tight bundle, light-colored and round. Recognition registered and she kicked the offending object into the enclosed space to her right. The rolled up pair of wool socks was soundless as it hit the far wall and settled next to Darl's weapons. Shifting her gaze, the dim light revealed the source of the attack: the man who had now popped his head out of the pile of blankets and was staring up at her, a sleepy smirk on his face.

She dropped her arm, her katana remaining sheathed. Daryl pulled his head completely from the blankets and gestured for her to come closer. Now irritated, Michonne glared at him but then shuffled over to squat down and see what he wanted. Her hesitation was less about his antics, although it was never a good idea to surprise her. It was that she was embarrassed by being so easily startled and wasn't looking forward to his gloating about it.

When he indicated that he wanted her closer, she sighed and placed one knee to the ground, leaning over him.

"Why you makin' so much damn noise, stompin' all up and down my hallway? Can't a man get some sleep?" Even shrouded in darkness, she could sense his amusement at her expense.

Michonne rolled her eyes. They were getting to know each other pretty well lately. They both knew she was as stealthy as a panther if not just as deadly. And if she had really woken him up, he'd be about twice as grumpy and even more laconic, if that were possible. He couldn't hide it from her—he'd been waiting up, maybe not all night but for a little while.

"Looks like you're the one making all the noise, getting me on my guard and trying to have a conversation in the middle of the night."

"I can fix that." He pulled an arm out of his blankets and lifted the material to offer her a place next to him.

A tense breath caught in her throat. They occasionally kept each other company in their cells but usually not for long and usually not so closely, especially at this hour. Sure, they'd gotten a bit familiar with each other like that morning he hung out while she slept. A few times, she'd lingered for an intimate farewell before watch or monopolized him with an appreciative greeting upon his return from a run. Once, when they both had a morning to themselves he had crawled onto her bunk to clean his blades while she leisurely re-read a book she was preparing for kid duty. It had felt almost normal to sit with him like that, reclining in bed with her legs resting in his lap while he leaned against her wall and propped his up on her extra chair.

Each time they were together like that, it upped the stakes between them. If she joined him in his bed underneath the covers, there was no telling what private things they'd get up to on a cold night like tonight.

And there were also those feelings Michonne had whenever she found herself so in tune with Daryl: the hesitation and apprehension. It was difficult sometimes to accept what was growing between them. For every moment they spent being familiar, they invested just as much energy overcompensating for the perceived loss of independence. They both required time to themselves and finding a balance in this community was hard. On top of that, Daryl wasn't yet comfortable initiating anything too sexual or romantic with her, burdened by a lifetime of rejection and self-preservation.

Maybe it was silly, Michonne often thought. They should be grabbing any moment of happiness that offered itself. But their caution was an honest reaction to the difficulties of their lifestyle. And that struggle was causing its own kind of strange tension between the two.

This offer, it felt important somehow, for both of them.

"Hurry up, woman. I'm 'a freeze my ass off waitin' on you." He reached out and pulled at her hand resting on her knee. There was a subtle plea in his expression that he tried to cover and it pulled at her heart.

What was the alternative? Go back to her cold cell alone and possibly frustrated? Leave Daryl all by himself up here when he'd freely requested her company? Why would she want do any of that when she could be curled up in his arms under a warm pile of comforters? He'd accepted her company time and time again. Perhaps this was a key moment to return the favor.

Returning to her feet, she carefully unhooked her katana from across her back and laid it beside his crossbow. Michonne turned to take off her coat, hung it from the corner of his nearby chair and crawled into the the nook Daryl had created beside him. Before sealing them inside, they both paused to take in the image of their weapons resting together side by side, two deadly instruments waiting to be wielded by the perfect set of hands and compatible spirit.

Immediately, he took her in his embrace, encapsulating the both of them against the outside cold. "Hey," he whispered, rubbing warmth into her arms as she got comfortable.

Michonne ruffled his icy, bed-mussed hair. "You should be wearing a hat," she chided softly before kissing him quickly on the lips.

He chuckled. "Aint even been in my place for 30 seconds and ya already tryin'a run things."

He waited for her to kiss him again and when she obliged, his added intensity spoke volumes about where his affections lay. Moving his hands from her arms around to her back, he pulled her onto him and secured the covers more tightly around them. Daryl may have been uncomfortable initiating contact but when it happened, he was more than happy to do his part. Now Michonne was positive he hadn't been sleeping. A man doesn't prepare that kind of welcome unless he'd been expecting someone.

Breaking off from him, she smiled to herself in the darkness. It was nice to come home to this.

She took her gloves off and felt him jump when she slipped her hands underneath the various layers covering his torso. "Don't be such a baby," she muttered against his shoulder, warming her hands along the plains and scars across his chest. He'd gotten used to her touch enough to allow it.

"Anything worth mentionin' happen out there?" he murmured in her ear.

She slipped her leg in between his and ran her fingers over his cold head again. "Not a thing."

"Good." He reached up to remove her hand from his head and placed it back on his chest. "I got kid duty later on so Carol's gonna cover my afternoon watch." He sighed which made Michonne chuckle. Whenever he got kid duty he made it sound like a chore. But he couldn't fool her. There was something deep within him that wanted to protect and be relied upon. It made him feel good to teach the younger members of the group how to be stronger and smarter for when they had to be on the outside.

She weaseled her hand back underneath his shirt and stroked along his back. "You want some company?"

Abandoning his hold on her, Daryl reached for her face, tracing along her cheekbone in the darkness. "Only if you aint got nothin' better to do. I don't wanna interrupt any ass-kickins or crazy ninja missions."

She pinched him in the side and imagined the wry grin accompanying his smartass words. "Just for that, I'll help you out but only as a favor. You're going to owe me a little something in return."

Now stroking her lip with his thumb, she felt his sides shake with silent laughter. "Is that how it's gonna be?" His lips joined his thumb as he kissed the corner of her mouth. He retraced his movements along her cheek and growled low in her ear, "Might have more than a little something for ya if you're nice." He let his other hand travel down her body to her backside where he gripped her, quick but firm.

Her breath quickened and she briefly gripped his back. Michonne was a bit shocked—and pleased—by his boldness. He insisted he wasn't very good with women but once he got the hang of things, he was quite charming. He didn't even realize how appealing he was and she wasn't the only one who thought that, much to her growing annoyance.

"That's some big talk, Daryl Crockett." If she pretended to hate when he called her "woman", he was equally pissy about the nickname she'd given him. She wasn't one for such informalities but the one-off insult had rattled him so much, she couldn't help but pull it back out on occasion. Presently, he managed to give her ass a sharp but soundless smack in retaliation.

She was loving the playfulness tonight. It wasn't clear to her what had brought it on but she was happy to go along with it.

Daryl continued to slide gentle touches across her face as he held her firmly by the waist with his other arm. In lieu of the night shadows they were accustomed to when together like this, he used his hands to take her in beyond the darkness. First she felt the caress against her eyebrow and along her nose. He dipped the tip of a finger into the pucker of her lips and outlined the coy smile of pleasure she tried to suppress. There was the fleeting tickle of his eyelashes as he tilted down to better navigate her body in the absence of sight. Gripping her chin, she felt his lips flutter across her own before he guided her head into the crook of his neck to settle against him.

"Feels nice bein' like this on a cold night," he whispered, as if speaking out loud to himself. "You comfortable, babe?" His breath glided along her skin, his words burrowing into her heart. She nodded, the movement causing a pleasing oscillation between the two.

As the minutes passed, she thought he would drift back to sleep. However, he continued to stroke her hair while occasionally rubbing her arm again. From time to time, he'd adjust himself so he could feel how solid she was against him. He'd pull his leg tighter around hers or check that her arm remained secure around him. Whether it was the late-night privacy or the darkness that surrounded them underneath his covers, it spurred her forwardness as well. She outlined his tattoos with casual strokes and then let her hand creep lower and lower down his back until she was running her fingers along the waistband of his pants.

Daryl stiffened at that suggestive caress before stirring against her once more. "Hold on, now. You aint done that favor yet so don't go gettin' fresh with me."

"Well, if you keep touching me like that, then all bets are off." Her words were muffled as she spoke into his body.

She felt his smile press against her forehead. "Figured you wouldn't mind. You want me to cut it out? 'Cause it seems to me you kinda like it."

There was no denying that. Sliding her foot against his leg, she tightened her embrace of him. "What happened to trying to get some sleep? It's the middle of the night, remember? We're supposed to be keeping each other warm so we can rest, not keeping each other warm to get into some trouble."

"Won't be no trouble if you quit tryin' to start some."

His fingers brushed against the exposed skin below Michonne's ear before pushing her hair back from her shoulder. Her shiver was a combination of the cold and his sensual touch. "I didn't start this," she protested.

Daryl breathed her in. "You sure as hell don't make it easy to keep my hands off 'a ya."

Pushing back a bit, she turned her head up to face him in the dark even though he couldn't see her. "I can go back to my cell if you want some cold, alone time after all."

His response was to return her to his tight hold. "You aint goin' nowhere, woman."

She laid her head back on his shoulder and skimmed her fingers against the scratchy roughness of his beard to tip his chin towards her. "No. I'm not."

Their lips met in mutual desire for each other, steamy breaths warming their cocoon. Instead of extinguishing the desire, their banter had gotten them more worked up than ever. Yet both knew this wasn't their moment to take things to the next level. The wave of lust crested and then receded; their kisses slowed as the dull roar of passion ebbed to a loud whisper.

Michonne pulled away and kissed Daryl on the chin. "Sleep." He squeezed her one last time and then loosened his hold to lie completely back against the bunk. They relaxed into each other and she closed her eyes to follow her own advice. As time slipped by, she was lulled by the rhythm of his breathing and the rise and fall of his chest against her arm wrapped around him.

When they arose in the morning, it would be business as usual. At this hour, they could explore more hopeful versions of themselves.

Through the haze of her exhaustion though, she could tell that Daryl wasn't close to falling asleep. Rather, she noticed a tension in him as if he was fighting it. Michonne was momentarily on alert, holding still to listen for disturbances but also ready to pounce into action if necessary.

Noticing her attention, Daryl quickly unclenched and sighed across her head as he tried to calm himself.

"What is it?" she asked. He didn't respond but that was his way. She could be slow in her admissions too—it's one of the things they understood about the other.

However, as the minutes passed she became more worried. Things had been a little different between them just now, she reflected. Desperate almost. Did he know something that he didn't want to tell her? Did something happen while she was on watch that would change things for one or both of them?

Daryl sensed her worry and began rubbing her arms again, both to sooth her and to make use of his nervous energy. "Sorry I woke ya." She shook her head to reassure him that she hadn't been sleeping. "It's nothin' to get worked up about. Just not sleepin' great the last couple nights is all."

Now things were starting to make sense—his being awake at this hour, the invitation to join him, even the sexual tension. He had other stuff besides his yearning for her going on in his head.

Whatever was keeping him awake, if he wanted to talk about it, he knew she was there to listen. Otherwise, she wasn't going to push him. She laid her head back onto his shoulder and stroked his torso, hopefully providing some comfort for him. It didn't take anything special to trigger this kind of reaction, no close call or anniversary of tragedy. Sometimes the mind just caught up by itself on all the horrors that could befall anyone at any time. There was no getting too comfortable in this new world.

She kissed his neck and stilled her hand against him. "Why don't you give it a try? I don't want you all cranky when we have to deal with those kids." He pulled one of her locks to tease her. "No pressure. If you get some sleep, that's good; if not, then we'll try again tomorrow."

He nodded against her head but didn't answer her immediately. After a few moments of laying beside her lost in his own thoughts, he grazed his lips across her head again. "Sounds easy when you say it that way."

Michonne laughed. "Of course, it does." Reaching up to stroke his cheek, she felt his muscles twitch into a tense smile yet it still warmed her. "Anyway, at least one of us is going to get some sleep and I aim to be that one. You can join me if you like. Tell your demons they'll have to answer to me if they keep us up."

He chuckled into her ear. "Alright, then," he replied. Her laughter joined his.

"Just close your eyes." He sighed as she caressed his cheek once more and presumably complied.

Twenty minutes later, his soft snores soothed her exhaustion and she joined him in a deep sleep.

* * *

_**AN: Thanks for reading, especially all you kind folks that reviewed or alerted or PM'ed me. I very much appreciate your indulgence of my extracurricular project and the feedback you've offered. These two have proven to be quite challenging to keep in character in the midst of these scenarios. I want to clarify that these are mostly only edited by me so apologies for any sloppiness. This one, in particular, I wrote very quickly and polished it aint. More soon!**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Hatchback**

Daryl pushed the last of the bags to the far end of the trunk. The back seats were down so he could fit everything that could be scavenged from the farmhouse he was parked in front of. There was still plenty of room for gear and extra supplies, even for a person if he got stuck overnight and wanted to spread out for a nap.

He perched himself at the edge of the trunk and took in the landscape surrounding him. The leaves had long since left the trees and an occasional bird would fly overhead in search of a more hospitable habitat. The overgrown road leading to this place appeared as deserted as any other he'd seen in the past couple of months. Who knew if there were any more people lurking in an area this remote but the walkers sure had made themselves scarce. For that he was grateful. Life was miserable enough without having at least a little break from dealing with those assholes.

Winter was around the corner and they were close to being well stocked at the prison if they rationed well and stayed organized. Daryl suspected this was going to be one of the last runs before the snow started. After that, traveling beyond their neck of the woods would be on an emergency basis only.

After the stuffiness and death of the farmhouse and barn he'd raided earlier, the air outside seemed especially cleansing to Daryl. He missed being outdoors regularly; going hunting by himself in the woods by his house or getting lost in the routine of whatever construction work he'd managed to scrounge up. His life hadn't been worth much a couple of years ago but there had been a few things about it that made it tolerable: coming home to a cold beer and some TV, a good game of pool or some time with his own thoughts in the wild.

Being out like this was a stark reminder of how different things were for him now. This time last year, Hershel's farm had just gotten overrun and they'd lost people. It's not like he cared about that place anyway. It had never felt right with so much drama and bullshit going on there. They'd lost Sophia for good there along with Dale and Shane, who'd taken leave of his damn senses from the moment they'd stepped onto that land. After that, his group had been homeless and directionless. Everyone had felt the stress of Lori's pregnancy and the distance growing for Rick and the rest of his family. He couldn't say whether it was better that they'd been forced to move on. The losses at the prison had been hard too, especially his brother's. But at least now there was some stability and a sense of community. He'd never had any of that before and it was starting to grow on him despite how much he wanted to fight that unfamiliar feeling of comfort.

Speaking of things growing on him, his instincts alerted him to the appearance of a new arrival: his lithe, katana wielding traveling partner.

Michonne was doing one last check of the property before they left, searching for anything else useful or for any signs of trouble. They hadn't noticed either in the time they'd been there yet she wanted to be thorough about it. He didn't think it was necessary but he insisted on keeping her in his sight almost the entire time as a precaution. That she could take care of herself was a given; didn't mean he'd ever let down his guard. It was never going to be easy to predict the bullshit problems that could surface in this crazy damn world.

She had a spade and a pick-axe in one had and her katana in the other, blade clean, he noted. Whether the new tools were for farming or killing walkers would get worked out back at the prison.

As she walked towards him, her eyes remained sharp and her pace determined. Beyond their personal relationship, Michonne had always been his favorite person to go on a run with. When she'd straight up asked him that first time they hooked up, he hadn't been lying about preferring her quiet ways. But it was more than that. Wandering out in the world for whatever reason was risky on the best of days. When you didn't have to spend as much energy watching your back or anyone else's, it made getting the job done that much easier. And the woman was fearless with an intensity that was downright scary, even to him.

So if he was going to be outside the prison doing anything that might get him killed, he wanted her covering his ass. He was more than happy to return the favor.

The thought of covering her ass prompted a furtive grin. His appreciation of her shifted to a more superficial level and he took the opportunity to silently scrutinize her. Her coat covered up a lot of her body but that was okay. It wasn't a mystery to him what she looked or felt like underneath. Her stride was confident and careful, the sway to her hips as natural as the determined tilt of her head. The katana in her hand was casually swinging at her side although he knew how quickly she could raise it into a killing position. Her eyes swept the area with a deadly focus. She didn't miss anything with that glare. Yet when she turned her attention to him, the transformation of that steely gaze into an affectionate softness made him catch his breath.

Daryl felt lucky to enjoy this beautiful, sexy image of her without the distraction of a walker attack occupying his attention.

* * *

_It was hard not to be self-conscious when he compared himself to Michonne with his scars and rough edges. Throughout his life, he'd had girls come on to him but then they'd usually end up being a drunk or a meth head or a cheater. He'd never call any of the women he'd been with a girlfriend; it was just getting with whoever made herself available. After a while of screwing, they'd get pissed off at his distance and his need for space. Or they'd be disgusted by his family or his friends, all of whom were bigger fuck-ups than he was. Point is, the girls never stayed for long. _

_He was never gonna be good at talking to women but Michonne just shook her head when he'd suggested that one night after dinner. "Maybe, maybe not but half the women in this place would jump you if you gave them a wink. Sometimes it's not what you say but what you do and how you are. And you, Daryl Dixon, are a catch." _

_He scoffed at that and it echoed in the empty mess hall. It was late and she was due on watch soon. "Yeah, probably 'cause I'm one of the only people in this damn place that can put food on the table while killin' a shit-ton of walkers. Standards have a way of slidin' when you're dealin' with the end 'a the world. I'd rather be on my own than have to babysit somebody just to get some tail."_

_Michonne cocked her head to the side for a moment and then nodded. "Fair enough. I'm just glad I got to you first." She squeezed his arm briefly and he looked down, embarrassed but amused by her possessiveness. "And the last thing I need is a babysitter." Then she'd dropped the issue with a smirk. _

_And it was true. Well, not the stuff about other girls trying to get with him because he didn't know nothing of that. But he did like that she was his equal and he was glad to be gotten by her too._

* * *

As Michonne got closer to him and the car, he picked up the sound of her usually soft footsteps. With the cold drying out the grass, it wasn't easy to mask the steady crunch of rubber against soil. She approached him with suspicion then shifted her attention to sliding the axe and spade she carried into the trunk. He leaned over to help rearrange some items so she could anchor the tools against the heavier bags already packed tightly against the side—all while continuing to track her with his gaze.

"What are you looking at?" she asked as she sheathed her katana and stood in front of him.

When she turned in his direction, he grabbed her around the waist and pulled her against him between his legs. "Somethin' good, that's for sure." He licked his lips as he eyed her up and down. "All clear?"

The huntress who had approached him receded slightly into the background. She smiled and cupped his face in her hands before putting her arms around his neck. The taut binding of her muscles released as she relaxed into his embrace.

"Yep," she replied.

"Good." He pulled her to him and kissed her, moving his hands from her shoulders to her waist and then down to her backside. He was amused by Michonne's surprise. She usually took the lead when it came to being more aggressive with their intimate contact. For whatever reason, he just couldn't help himself at the moment and he trusted that she wouldn't protest.

* * *

_Carl hadn't said much to him, just took him in with suspicious eyes on occasion. He could understand it; Michonne was part of his pack and he was protective of her. But one day, he cornered Daryl while they were both helping Carol move some equipment inside from the cold._

"_She's the strongest woman I've ever met but she's been hurt badly just like us. If you're gonna play games, she'll kick your ass and you probably know that." Daryl had laughed at the kid who smiled in return. Yes, he was well aware of it. Michonne did not put up with anyone's shit. After a moment, they sobered again and Carl stared him straight in the face when he issued his warning. "I know you like her and that you've been through stuff too. But if you're not gonna step up then just leave her alone."_

_It felt weird getting a dressing down from a kid—but Carl was no ordinary teenaged boy._

_He and Carl had an understanding. They never had to discuss it, they just knew where the other was coming from. They'd gotten along well before his mom had died but Carl appreciated Daryl's affection for his sister, Li'l Asskicker as he had dubbed her. They'd gone out in the woods quite a few times too so Carl could learn about tracking and hunting. Michonne joined them on occasion. They were a formidable trio, focused, quiet (mostly) and so deadly when called upon to make a kill._

_It was Michonne that often brought out the kid in him. With the new people from Woodbury, he played the role of the grizzled man-child who'd lost his youth too quickly. The relationship with his father was a complicated push and pull. He felt judged by others in the group who had known him when he was an innocent youth hiding behind his mom or Shane before breaking out on his own; they couldn't handle the person he'd been forced to become. But with Michonne, he reverted back to that boy who wanted guidance and acceptance and to be told what to do. And for Michonne it tapped into that maternal side of her that she kept so guarded for all the hurt it stirred in her. Seeing them together, the threat of walkers and killers and danger faded away into the past. Michonne had that effect on him too._

_He understood why Carl didn't want to lose that over any carelessness with her affections._

_But Daryl knew he wasn't just fucking around with Michonne for kicks even if neither were putting a label on their interactions. So he's left with stepping up because leaving her alone isn't an option he's interested in._

* * *

"Somebody's been working up an appetite." He'd moved his mouth from her lips down to her neck, kissing the exposed skin that her scarf didn't cover.

"Thought you might wanna take a break after all this haulin' and liftin' and scoutin' we just did."

Her gloved fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck poking out from the hat she'd insisted he wear. "What kind of break did you have in mind?"

He gripped her hips and bit his lip with nervousness. "How 'bout you crawl up in here with me and see." Letting go of her, he pushed himself deeper into the car and felt his pulse speed up when she got on her knees to follow after him, no hesitation whatsoever.

Before she could settle on top of him, he lifted up to meet her lips, grasping the back of her neck and maneuvering her within the small confines of the trunk space. When Daryl finally got her underneath him, he straddled her waist and grinned down at her in anticipation as he slowly removed his coat. He often worried when he did something he thought was too forward but she almost always saw him through it; she wanted him to know it was okay to initiate what felt good to him.

Reaching back and up, he closed them into the trunk area. The firm click of the latch cut off the crisp air seeping into the car and locked them into their own private love nest. The gear and supplies packed around them served as convenient insulation.

When Daryl turned back to Michonne, she had unbuttoned her coat as well. She reached for the buttons on his pants next and he crawled back up her body to kiss her again. Having gotten her to play along, Daryl's next task was to get her as naked as possible. Considering the weather and the circumstances, that would probably take some improvising. Even alone in the middle of nowhere, getting naked still sounded too risky in case something snuck up on them.

So he started peeling each layer from her body, not enough to remove anything completely but enough to give him the access he was craving. He pushed her coat aside and unzipped her vest before pulling her shirt from where it was tucked into her pants. Diverting his hands to her waist, he unhooked her belt buckle and worked both closures open before returning to her thick shirt. He released a few buttons at the top, kissing his way from her mouth to her heaving chest. The skin against his lips was still warm despite the chill in the air but she shivered when he pulled the material of her t-shirt and bra aside with his teeth.

It was cold and damp, there was a long journey left ahead of them and they were still vulnerable to walker and human attack alike. Yet in this moment, they were free to be with each other as they wanted.

* * *

_Carol had warned him to be careful with Michonne, to protect himself. From most anyone else, he would have been pissed at the intrusion into his personal business. But Carol was always different. They'd been through a lot together and were tight—as close as any family either ever had. Through some of the darkest times in their journey with the group, they had been each other's sole support system. She confided in him and he was as straight with her as his comfort levels allowed. He owed her that courtesy. _

_It's not that Carol didn't like Michonne or vice versa; they got along fine. But there was a disconnect between them that surprised Daryl. They had so much in common, the regrets of marrying men who didn't deserve them, losing a child and becoming stronger for having to learn how to survive under harsh conditions. Maybe they reminded each other too much of regrets and tragedies best left forgotten. And there was also the implied competition for his affections, which were strong for both women in different ways. _

"_Don't get too close to her unless you're in control," Carol had advised. "I don't want to see you hurt and a woman like that could hurt you something awful." When Daryl tried to protest, Carol put a hand up to stop him. "I'm not saying she'd do it on purpose. It's just there's a whole lot of ways to lose people these days and you know that." Daryl had nodded at her in that way of his when he wasn't sure what she wanted him to say. _

_It wasn't like that with him and Michonne; there were no labels or definitions. They were just going to be together until it made more sense not to. That he couldn't think of a scenario where he wouldn't want to be with her was beside the point. _

_And if he were being honest with himself, Carol was probably right: anything that made him feel as good as being with Michonne would hurt like hell once it was gone._

* * *

Right now Daryl didn't want to analyze what he had with Michonne; he just wanted to experience her.

For once, they could be together and go at their own pace instead of that hurried frenzy they were used to. Daryl didn't have to restrain himself as he pushed into her in an effort to remain quiet and discrete. He didn't have to silence his guttural response to feeling her against him and then on top of him and then surrounding him. There was no anxiety about whether he was pleasing her. As the daylight fully illuminated her face, he could see it in her reactions to him. It was in the way she moaned his name as she ran her fingers roughly through his hair or her gasps when he'd tease her most sensitive spots. She softly pleaded for more, such a contrast from her usual breathy silence the other times they'd been together.

He never thought anyone would want him like this. But she did and she told him over and over again.

Ramblings of acceptance and appreciation tumbled from his lips as he pulled her to him. He was no poet or scholar and he worried that his stilted words couldn't possibly capture what being together like this meant to him. Eyes closed, she simply gave in to the pleasure of it all as she undulated against him. She wore the same expression reserved for when he managed to say exactly the right thing.

As each passionate minute passed, he allowed himself to enjoy her. And he allowed himself to believe that he was everything she wanted and needed at that moment

* * *

_Rick had suggested, in so many words, that he hold onto Michonne even if only for a few moments. _

_They'd been on watch together, nothing much to see and even less to talk about really. Rick had casually asked about Michonne, much to Daryl's annoyance, but that hadn't deterred him from voicing his opinion: _

"_It doesn't matter if things work out down the road. It won't change those few moments of peace you let yourself enjoy despite the circumstances." _

_Rick would never be the same after losing Lori the way he did. The situation with Shane was one thing and had certainly done a number on his head. But the fallout of his wife's death coupled with the reality of raising two children constantly weighed on the former leader. Finding a way to connect again with Carl, especially, had changed the way Rick saw their new life. _

_From jump, Rick had done right by Daryl. They started off on the worst possible footing with Rick responsible for him losing his brother. But they'd gone from that to being practically brothers themselves. Rick relied on him, trusted him not based on who he thought Daryl was but on who he knew Daryl could be. In the process, he gave Daryl a purpose beyond just surviving. Michonne's relationship with Rick had followed a similar path._

_And for some reason, Rick saw something in both of them that he believed in. So it made sense to him that Daryl and Michonne would recognize those things in each other and want to explore that connection._

_Before he put Daryl out of his misery and dropped the subject, Rick left him with a final thought that had stayed with him for days. "You never know what's around the corner. Regrets are easy to stack up. It's forgiveness that's hard, especially when it's in hindsight. I learned that too late."_

* * *

The sex between Daryl and Michonne that afternoon was a sensuous affair. Michonne was patient with Daryl's tentative movement, waiting for him to become comfortable before pushing him to another level. The time and space away from the prison emboldened Daryl to experiment with what brought them both the most enjoyment. They would tradeoff control, surrender to the other's touch until the urge to dominate surfaced once more. When they finally found a rhythm, it was slow and grinding. They were both still practically fully clothed but there was an intense, sweaty friction between them. They savored every second.

Later, Daryl regretted not paying more attention when Michonne came apart beneath him but he'd been too overwhelmed by his own approaching fulfillment. All he could remember was the sensation of her everywhere around him and the amazing sounds of her satisfaction that filled the car. When he followed, it was a full minute spent nestled into her neck before he could acknowledge any thought that didn't involve how good she felt beneath him.

* * *

_Glenn had stopped by his cell one day with a stash of condoms and an unsolicited "welcome to the sex club" talk. In particular, he predicted a moment where something would get triggered in Daryl's brain and nothing would be right until he had his woman in his arms and flat on her back—or however it was that he and Michonne liked it._

"_She'll be doing something totally ordinary like cleaning up her cell or loading up supplies or having a conversation with someone. Hell, her dad might be like ten feet away from you." Glenn had worked himself up good to make his urgent point. "You're going to look at her and jumping her bones right then and there is going to make all the sense in the world. Next thing you know, you're on her like a walker with some fresh meat; vicious and predatory and totally uncontrollable."_

_Daryl had looked at him like he was crazy. The only response he could muster was to laugh at the kid's lack of self-control and remind him that he didn't have to worry about Michonne's daddy being nearby. If he'd lasted this long without sex, the sight of Michonne shooting the breeze around the prison wasn't going to send him into some kind of animal frenzy._

_Now he understood. Somehow he didn't mind being wrong about that._

* * *

Daryl decided then and there in the back of that car that it had turned into a mighty fine afternoon and the best trip he'd ever been on. It didn't matter that they still had hours to go before nightfall. He was pretty happy about what he'd accomplished: productive run, minimal killing, no psychopaths and an unexpected roll in the sack.

The sun disappeared behind a smattering of clouds, filling the back of the car in shadow. Daryl pushed Michonne's hair away from her face and let his fingers linger at her neck.

"Aint a bad way to end a run." He stroked her cheek with a tenderness that encouraged her smile.

She pushed the grin back quickly though. "You were okay," she added, shrugging casually. She flicked her eyes up to meet his and they both broke out in laughter. It was pretty clear that she'd thought their performance more than okay only a few minutes ago.

Separating from Michonne, he adjusted himself as much as possible in the cramped space but his mind continued to race about the amazing sex he'd just had in the trunk of a car. He wasn't supposed to be with someone like her. She wasn't supposed to think twice about a poor, delinquent like him. Their lives should have never crossed paths. Blame it on bigotry or the class divide or geographical isolation, they had not been meant to be. But then the end of the world happened and he'd been given different choices. And she'd been stripped of who she was save the will to fight and saw something in him that restored parts of her humanity.

Imperfect and tenuous as it was, he'd take it and would keep on taking it as long as it kept working and she was fine giving it to him.

So, yes, he'd just had great sex on a cold autumn afternoon in the back of a car with a formidable, irresistible survivor. _His_ formidable, irresistible survivor. This fucking apocalypse was something else. Daryl grinned at the thought.

Michonne tossed her head his way, now with more control over her quick, shallow breaths. "What's so funny?"

His smile widened at her dubious expression. "I can't believe we just did that in the back of a hatchback. The back of a pickup truck, hell yeah, but a fuckin' hatchback? This shit's embarrassing."

Michonne chuckled next to him and laid a hand across his chest. "I think you'll survive."

"At least I got the right woman with me." He grabbed her hand and kissed it before returning their intertwined fingers to his chest.

"You should take what you can get. There's no way we could have done this on your motorcycle." Daryl huffed in reluctant agreement. "And how do you have sex in the back of a pickup truck? Like in the cab or the actual back part?"

Daryl thought she was making fun of him but when he turned to her, she was wearing a sincere expression of curiosity on her face. "Naw, girl, you just put a blanket down in the back and do your thing."

She winced in distaste. "Isn't that a little uncomfortable."

"Aint heard no complaints." Michonne remained skeptical. "Maybe I'll show you sometime." He was only mildly offended when she openly scoffed at the suggestion. "What about you? Don't tell me you're one of those girls that needs candles and roses or silk sheets and shit."

Michonne pulled at the sparse hair on his chest causing him to flinch and then grin at her annoyance. She brushed a couple of fingers against his skin in silent apology. "Well, I do like a nice, soft bed. Or a couch. I wouldn't turn down a desk or a kitchen table either. And after today, I'd say a hatchback isn't so bad."

Turning so that he could prop himself up over her, Daryl leaned in to kiss her shoulder and then her chin. "You better cut out that kinda talk 'fore you start givin' me ideas." He felt the smile against his lips as he brushed his mouth across hers.

"Since I'm vetoing the pickup truck idea, what's your next choice then?" As he continued to nuzzle into her, she ran her hands up and down his arm while sliding a leg against his.

Daryl paused, presumably to consider his options. "You know what'd be good?" He lowered himself onto her and lay in her embrace, head resting at her chest. He closed his eyes in pleasure when he felt her fingers pass through his hair.

"What would be good, Daryl?" she asked, a hint of humor in her tone.

He positioned himself along her body and took her face in his hands. "Me. You. Shower." He brought his mouth down to hers and felt her open to him as comfortable as any long-term lovers. Hell, given how short and unpredictable life was now, their relationship could probably be considered long-term. Michonne hummed her agreement into him and pressed him harder against her. Pulling away, his lips hovered over hers before he kissed her again lightly. "Long, hot shower."

Michonne grabbed him to bring him back down to her and they made out for a few more minutes until Daryl groaned and rolled off of her once more. Both were breathing quite heavily and even though they knew they had no time for round two, they had yet to completely let go of each other.

"I like it. But I think you're just saying that because you're craving a hot shower." Michonne fingered the sleeve of his shirt, a habit to keep from touching him more intimately.

"Damn right I am. Sure wouldn't mind your kind 'a company though." He grinned in her direction and she returned it. "You know this is exactly what they think we're doin' out here, back at the prison. Usin' a run as an excuse to feel each other up without the whole household underfoot."

Michonne shrugged. "They're at least a little right. And I'm glad not to disappoint." Despite their lack of time, she now rolled on top of him and let her hands and mouth wander in a way that ensured they'd be busy for the next ten minutes or so. Daryl wasn't about to complain.

* * *

_**AN: Thanks again for reading (and Beezneeze, I've got at least 2 more chapters in the works, after that we'll see. I would hate to endure your wrath). **_

_**Sorry for the monster chapter. I was actually excited that this started out as my shortest chapter. But I started to get particularly experimental with this one and that stat went out the window. Also, I noticed that Michonne's been sleeping a lot in this series so no more snoozing for her. More soon.**_


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five: Doorways (Part 1)**

Michonne stood at the entrance of the makeshift rec room, eyes glued on the crowd gathered in the distance. She wasn't sure what had prompted the gathering but it was in full swing. Hershel, Daryl, Sasha, Maggie and Glenn were at a table in the middle trying to appear casual while scrutinizing each other. Rick, Beth and Carol hovered in the periphery while a few of the newer folks milled around to take in the festive environment.

Discovering the little party was only a slight surprise. She hadn't been looking for any company but when she ran into Tyreese, he had urged her to check out whatever was brewing down the hall. He'd just come from there but was on his way to see his lady friend in the other cellblock.

It looked like everyone was having a nice time and Michonne was glad to see it. The winter wasn't as harsh as the previous one and it was nice to have shelter. But it was still rough living at the prison. They were mostly confined indoors due to the heavy snowfall and that made people a little stir crazy. It also made watch a miserable affair and they'd started shortening the shifts last week to keep people from suffering too much out in the cold.

In general, spirits were pretty high though. They had plenty of food and provisions to see them through the season. Everyone had a warm bed and layers enough to keep them from catching too harsh a chill. And when the weather broke, there was the promise of fresh fruits and vegetables from the planting Hershel and Rick had planned.

Despite the soft chatter and occasional laughter, Michonne kept herself on the periphery. She moved quietly from the entrance to lean on the table by the doorway, taking everything in from afar. Concentrated groups made her nervous; there was too much stimuli and distraction. Adding a social factor made it worse, especially for gatherings like this where people were so jovial and carefree. She'd lost so much and could lose more in the future at any moment. It was hard to put all that she'd seen and done aside to share a laugh or pretend that everything was sane and normal; that everything was going to be alright in the end. Being around it just made her sad.

But this was her home now so she could force herself to participate from the fringes of their community. She'd take an interest in their pleasures and show that she did care that they were healthy and as satisfied as this life would allow.

Judging by the crowd, the poker game had been going on for some time with Sasha cleaning up but Daryl and Maggie holding their own. Poor Glenn was almost wiped out and even though Hershel looked like he was close to that too, she wouldn't be surprised if the old man had something up his sleeve.

It wasn't that she didn't want to enjoy this. In these moments, Michonne didn't want to appear even colder than most people thought her already. If there was some way she could turn off the anxiety and panic that welled up, she'd do it. Or she'd like to think she'd do it. These days, the post-traumatic stress felt too much a part of her to move on. That's why she couldn't bring herself to be the person that everyone around her was, no matter how much pressure she felt to conform. This was especially true after what had been going on with her the last few weeks.

Or more accurately, she was concerned about how people saw her after her falling out with Daryl.

It wasn't fair to say that they'd taken his side; that was just her being dramatic which was frustrating in and of itself. It only seemed like Daryl had an easier time dealing with it all because he was closer with these people. In fact, nothing much had changed in the way they interacted with everyone else. There was only that awkwardness and tension at the elephant in the room whenever certain things were said or when they were both in the same area.

Michonne didn't run from anything but this situation had made her feel like hiding out and withdrawing. She tried to fight against that impulse. It wasn't instinct, just simple fear, the source of which would always haunt her. That acknowledgment seemed so inadequate.

Her ex. Her kids. Her boyfriend. All gone just like these people will be one day. Or she will.

Her original post-apocalypse plan felt like ages ago. After traveling the backcountry with her pets, she figured she'd head to the coast and live out her life alone. No need to worry about loss when there's no one to lose. Then all you needed to focus on was protection, security and survival and she was good at that.

But that strategy had gotten complicated when she'd come across a woman in trouble. Andrea. Michonne had lost a lot of herself in the months before yet the instinct to aid someone in need had never fled.

In the beginning, she'd only meant to guide Andrea to her people. Then it turned into maintaining shelter during the winter when traveling around got too difficult. And during all that time, Andrea, in that way of hers, slowly helped Michonne heal. It snuck up on her without her even knowing it. By the time Spring came around, her plans had been about finding a place they could both be safe, just the two of them. That, Michonne could handle. Then Andrea got sick and Michonne's anxiety came back like a boot at her throat. The hope that had started to creep in turned into blind optimism and then transformed to desperation. A plane crash, two sacrificed pets and a car ride later and the game changed completely. The hammer had been lifted and her dream was close to shattering.

It hadn't taken long for her to realize that she was going to lose Andrea to Woodbury.

Michonne didn't think her desires were too much to ask. All she'd wanted was safety without the threat of the walking dead or monsters posing as humans. But that wasn't enough for Andrea and Michonne recognized it deep down. With every moment they stayed in Woodbury, Andrea remembered her old life and who she was; she felt entitled to be a part of that civilized society. But society was no longer civilized and nothing about the Governor's neat cover story or eerily perfect town would convince Michonne otherwise. She didn't think that life was possible any longer.

So she withdrew, reverting back to those early days of strategic survival and planning her exit strategy as she shut down the emotional attachments that would weaken her resolve to move on. And she sensed Andrea slip away as she herself was slipping away.

With the passing days, as suspicion about the Governor's and Woodbury's secrets grew, her trust in her closest friend diminished. She didn't share with Andrea her concerns because she no longer believed her friend would support her like she had in the previous months on their own. It appeared that the power of common comforts and ready acceptance within Andrea's reach was intoxicating after such a harsh journey. It began to erase the ties of friendship. In hindsight, Michonne wondered if she should have had more faith in her friend, not that her regrets changed a damn thing.

Then, the inevitable impasse. It had been easier than she thought to leave Andrea behind; it allowed her to embrace the guilt and isolation that had been her true companions before she let herself get turned around.

Hurting the Governor later had simply been icing.

It was a miracle she'd made it with Rick's group. That initial meeting was met with a lot of fuzziness in her memories. Glenn and Maggie's conversation, Merle jumping out of the shadows, and that damn baby formula that pulled at her sense of right. Things kind of snowballed from there. If she hadn't been so hurt and desperate at the time, who knows where she'd be today.

Then to find out that Andrea had started sleeping with the Governor almost immediately after she left? Michonne didn't dare imagine Andrea calling him "Phillip" like he was a human being and not a monster. She didn't think of them playing house with her estranged friend having no idea he kept his dead daughter and a fish tank full of heads locked up only a room away. It surprised her how brutal the betrayal felt, that her companionship could be replaced so easily and in the most cliché way possible.

Commotion from the table pulled her attention back to the present, a stale bitterness still lingering. She caught Daryl throwing down his cards and grabbing the sizable pile of chips in front of him. He leaned over to mutter something at Sasha that had her rolling her eyes and pushing her cards towards Glenn to collect.

Thoughts of Andrea reminded her of the current situation with Daryl. She'd once mentioned to him, in vague passing, the difficulty of loving people who end up disappointing. She couldn't even remember to whom she was referring at the time, the list being so long. He'd instantly understood where she was coming from. That was something they shared, the deep scars of rejection; not wanting to trust because you had been kicked one too many times to take a chance. Then sometimes you find people who made the leap of faith worth it but that sense of safety and comfort had to be earned. And if you're lucky, maybe you got some reconciliation when the wrongs done in the past cease to overshadow the love shared between two people.

If you weren't lucky, well, there was only the emptiness.

* * *

_When Michonne woke after a long night on watch, she strolled out into the main cellblock and could instantly tell that something had happened. The silent tension was thick yet whatever had gone down must've done so quickly and far enough away that it hadn't woken her or required her involvement. That didn't stop her from being immediately on her guard. _

_The first person she ran into was Beth who was descending from the upper level with baby Judith in her arms. She stopped abruptly when she saw Michonne, apprehension written all over her face. _

_This confirmed to Michonne that what she was about to hear was likely to stir up some trouble._

"_What happened?" There was no point in beating around the bush and Michonne was sure her tone got that point across to the meek young woman. "Where is everyone?"_

_Beth propped Judith up on her hip and looked around. "They left. Tyreese said he saw someone scouting us out in the woods. Daryl took a group to check it out." She made it sound so simple but there was more to it, Michonne was sure of it. _

"_Who all went?" _

_Beth shuffled, unable to keep eye contact with Michonne's stern stare. "I'm not sure about the whole group but he took Rick, Tyreese, Sasha, Glenn and Maggie for sure. I think they grabbed some folks from the other block too. They left a couple hours ago."_

_Those were all their best fighters. Well, everyone besides her. What the hell could have been so important that nobody would have thought to wake her to come along? _

"_What aren't you saying?"_

_Beth was silent for a moment, probably hoping that someone else would come around to do the explaining for her. "They think it might be the Governor. That's why they left so quick."_

_Michonne's face clouded over and she turned in the opposite direction, not sparing Beth another thought. She stopped at her cell to strap on her extra knives and her gun before heading to the exit. _

_She was almost to the door when she heard her name being called, not coming from Beth, but the older, male voice of her father. Hershel came shuffling from down the hallway, a determination in his expression. "We need you here. Daryl was clear on that before he left."_

_Clenching her fists, Michonne took a calming breath so as not to snap at the elderly man. "If the Governor is planning something, they need me to help, not just sit around waiting." _

"_Daryl didn't think so. They're not even sure it's him and not some other random travelers looking to make trouble." He sighed and took another step towards her, catching her eye. "Let him and the others take care 'a this. He has the situation in hand." _

_Michonne's whole body turned rigid as she braced herself for the onslaught of emotions over the situation, mostly anger, betrayal and worry. All those feelings were warring to defeat the overwhelming helplessness of her standing here when everyone else was out there taking care of what she thought of as her fight._

"_Does he, now?" Michonne responded, cold and deadly. With that, she reversed course and headed deeper into the prison. Hershel tracked her but didn't follow. _

_Michonne spent the next few hours in the infirmary. It was almost always deserted but because it was off the main pathway with the mess hall and library, it was easy for anyone to find her and for her to hear any commotion if there was an emergency. Right before sundown, she heard stirring coming from the cellblocks, mostly leisurely, heavy footsteps and low conversation. She silently slunk back to where the crowd had formed to hear the summary of their excursion: there had been no sign of the Governor but they had picked up four new stragglers. They'd been checking out the prison to figure out if it was worth the risk of requesting shelter from the bitter winter climate. _

_As soon as she saw that the threat of attack had abated with no one injured or missing, Michonne retreated back to her own devices._

_Daryl waited another half an hour before finding her outside on the far end of the prison checking the perimeter for walkers. She'd noticed him at the doorway, the light from the lantern he held and the fading sunlight making his shape unmistakeable. Knowing what was coming, she paced herself as she made the long trek back from the far reaches of the property. _

_Time had done nothing to soothe her mood. _

_She stopped a few feet from him, stowing her katana and tightening her coat against the howling wind. They were about to have it out and she didn't want to do it with a weapon in her hand. That they were in the middle of a snow covered patio wasn't ideal but the things that needed said weren't meant for close quarters or curious ears hanging around the periphery. Daryl placed the lantern in the doorway but made no move to speak._

_A minute passed. Two minutes. Michonne wasn't going to be the one to start this. He owed her an explanation and she would wait all night for one if she had to. _

_Finally he sighed and ran tense fingers through his hair. Twelve hours ago, she'd have playfully pestered him about needing to wear a hat outside. Right now, she didn't give a shit what he did. _

"_I know you're pissed. But I didn't want you out there and it was my call."_

_If he thought taking the authoritative approach was a good idea, he deserved the scorn she was about to unleash on him. _

"_Your 'call' was bullshit. You should have told me. You should have brought me with you!"_

"_Wadn't no time for that and you were knocked out. Would ya rather the Governor get the drop on us waitin' on you? And it don't even matter 'cause it wadn't him no way."_

"_It doesn't matter, he says." Her humorless chuckle was cold and ridiculing. "We've only been talking about getting our hands on him for months; keeping an eye out so we could take him down after everything he's done." She paused and tried to calm herself, feeling her emotions start to boil over. "You know how important it is to me to make that bastard pay." _

"_Reckon I do gotta good idea 'a how much you want him to pay for what he done to Andrea. I do too, for Merle and for Maggie and Glenn and all those people he killed from Woodbury. Don't mean you're the one needin' to do it. Not when you been on watch half the night." He sighed and gestured vaguely at her, lowering his voice from raised to insistent moderation. "And not when we ..."_

_She tensed at his hesitation. "Not when we what? Not when we've been fucking? Your dick doesn't get to make those decisions." At this point, she wanted him to hurt because, whether he intended it or not, the group's actions had hurt her and he was the one taking the blame for it. _

_Daryl flinched. "It aint like that and you know it. I'm steppin' up here tryin' to keep people safe and that includes you."_

"_You should have had faith that I'd want to protect these people, our home, just as much as you. I guess when it comes down to it, I'm still on the outside looking in no matter what I do." She turned in frustration, for once wishing a walker would stumble up to her and give her something to drive her knife through._

_The reality of this situation came crashing down on her. She should have known better than to let her guard down. Living with these people, even respecting them, that was one thing. But she'd gotten too close and it was causing nothing but problems for her. This was not a world for believing in people anymore. Not for her anyway._

_Meanwhile, Michonne had mistaken Daryl's silence for acceptance but it wasn't until she turned back around that she recognized the anger on his face. _

"_How you gon' say that to me, huh? How many times I let you have my back? Told you things I aint never said to nobody. Everything we got going together is 'cause I got faith in you and 'cause you trust us. But when folks is lookin' at me to lead them, I gotta see past that."_

"_And what a fine job you did," Michonne mocked, knowing that would stoke insecurities about his burgeoning role with the group. "Whatever issues you've got with me, you take it up with me. But don't go hiding behind the group."_

His temper flared at that. "_You wanna know the truth? Truth is, we can't have you goin' after the Governor on a goddamn revenge mission every time we get a sniff 'a him. And that's exactly what you'd 'a done if we took you out there. Don't even try to bullshit me by denyin' it. You can't be tryin' to settle a score when we got people to take care of." _

_He walked a few steps towards the side of the building, agitated and wound tight enough to pounce at the slightest provocation. "Do you know what'd happen if he got the better 'a you? It's game fucking over, that's what'd happen. You saw what he was plannin' for ya back at Woodbury. You'd end up worse off than Andrea 'cause at least she went quick." He paused and then stood in front of her, pointing right at her to get his meaning across. "Merle was right. You let him get a hold 'a ya and he'll fuck you up and do all kinds a' sick shit to you before leavin' ya for dead."_

_Michonne did her best not to flinch at the mention of Andrea. It always stirred up her feelings of guilt at the ways she and her friend had failed each other. Why would he bring Andrea into this, if not to make her feel worse? _

"_What makes you so damn sure he's gonna get the better of me? I was protecting myself way before I got here. Nothing's changed. I can take care of myself!"_

"_Aint never doubted it. But I'm talkin' 'bout if you can take care 'a us, this group of folk right here. You got any idea what it'd do to us if that asshole got his hands on you?"_

"_Us or you, Daryl?" Michonne felt like running or hitting something, anything to keep from showing this man how much he could wound her. He'd sleep with her but he wouldn't rely on her to choose the community's safety over her own ends? When he'd been called on to take a more prominent role in the group, she had encouraged him. Now he made it sound like believing in her was some kind of liability to his place here. Damn him if he thought he could treat her like that. _

_The shadows settled onto the patio as the sun disappeared behind them. She noted that Daryl didn't even bother to respond to her last accusation, opting to return to his pacing. _

_Michonne had a point to prove though and she wasn't going to go out defeated on this. "When have I ever given you cause to doubt my loyalty? I try every day to earn my place here, even when the urge to shut everyone out and run is overwhelming. Did you think about that when you justified your little field trip? Or was it just really convenient for you that I was asleep when this all went down and you got to tiptoe out the backdoor with me none the wiser." Unlike him, she wasn't yelling but her words had a lethal grit that did nothing to conceal her anger. "I never took you for such a coward." she spat out in disgust._

_Daryl whirled back around on her. "I aint sayin' I'm gonna make the right call all the time. Maybe I didn't here. I did what I thought I shoulda for the group and for you. But I aint no coward. And fuck you for sayin that."_

_Michonne was too far gone to appreciate the subtext of his confession. "At least I said it to your face. That's more than I got from you. From any of you." She tried and failed to keep the hurt from her voice. _

_The silence between them was frosty and not just due to the bitter wind. Daryl stood standing with his hands akimbo, looking everywhere but at the woman in front of him. Michonne, on the other hand, stared right at him, rigid with anger and self-righteousness. Finally, he bowed his head before glancing back in her direction. _

"_It's cold out here and I'm done with this shit." He turned and walked back through the doorway, grabbing the lantern as he went. Not affording her another sign of his attention, Daryl left her standing outside in the darkness._

_tbc ..._

* * *

_**AN: Such angst for the sulking Michonne and her sad issues. I'll likely post the next section sometime tomorrow (I'm about 90% sure of that. Part 2 is done but just needs one more line edit.). As always, I appreciate you sticking around for this story and many thanks to those of you who have reviewed and alerted. **_


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six: Doorways (Part 2 of 2)**

Glenn had finally won a round and was gleefully collecting his pot of chips. Maggie blew him a kiss which prompted Sasha to cry fowl that the two were in collusion. Beth swung by the table and dropped some snacks off leaving Rick and Carol to start chatting about something that brought a light into Carol's eyes. One of the older kids, Bill, listened for a minute to their conversation and then walked away, blushing. Carol and Rick shook their heads and chuckled.

It was almost like watching a television show from before walker times. As Michonne's attention was diverted from one group to another, the scene changed and another part of the plot unfolded. When her eyes settled on Daryl, she didn't know if it was time to change the channel or settle in and watch the action unfold like a true voyeur.

The fallout from her and Daryl's fight was rather anti-climactic. They just went back to how things were before they started hooking up but with fewer interactions between the two. Only Michonne was more distant, still stinging from being left behind. There was more to it for her, like a cruel reminder of sorts: when you get close to people, they turn on you or leave you or they die. Sooner or later, one of those was coming. You can fool yourself into thinking the stuff in between is what matters but that doesn't change the result.

Reconsidering all that she and Daryl had said to each other during their fight, Michonne thought keeping to herself wasn't just for her own comfort either. She tried to convince herself that everyone else needed to keep their distance from her as well. When she found her daughters and it was too late, she did what had to be done and it had killed a large part of her to do it. She mourned them fiercely. Maybe she didn't want anyone to have to mourn her like that.

Everyone knew about the fight, of course, even if they weren't privy to the details. Most knew it was inevitable when Daryl and the others walked out of the prison to confront the Governor without her. Michonne fully expected to wallow in her isolation, the group rallying around the favored son. He was becoming a leader to the people at the prison and he was family to a good number of the survivors as well. Who was Michonne but a straggler that was good at killing walkers?

But that's not what happened exactly.

Rick was the first to approach her. He didn't make any excuses for Daryl, said that wasn't any of his business. But he did say that he understood where Daryl was coming from. To him, being a leader meant having to make hard decisions where sometimes you realize too late that you didn't choose the best way. The responsibility wasn't easy to navigate and the weight of it messed with your head. It's one of the reasons why he didn't want to do it anymore. However, those that could handle it had to have people around that cared enough to call you out and then forgive.

He also said that he'd long trusted her, with his own life and the lives of his kids and extended family. He hoped she knew that. Michonne had been struck by how much she'd needed to hear it.

Sasha and Maggie had been next in line, joining her on watch one night under the guise of girl talk. They didn't get confrontational with her which was wise of them. But the direction of their conversation made it clear that they thought men were babies sometimes and that Daryl was sorry and didn't know how to say it. Maggie had many stories of Glenn trying to be the alpha in their relationship based on his preconceived notions of how a man should be. She almost felt bad smacking him back to reality by reminding him of what a badass she is. Sasha had similar stories about her brother Tyreese. Luckily, the big man knew when to take a backseat to his little sister who was a better shot and a better strategist than he was.

Michonne had put on an air of exasperation as a front but it didn't take long for her to smirk at the touching show of solidarity. Their revelations weren't going to make her issues go away; it was very kind to try though. More than ever, she didn't want any trouble reaching these people.

By the time Glenn rolled around to offer his two cents, she wasn't even really mad anymore. She was just disappointed in herself and Daryl and didn't have a clue how to fix things, or if she even wanted to. Glenn had been funny about the whole situation, telling her how many times he'd messed things up with Maggie by being too prideful. He didn't always recognize his own insecurities; he was trying harder not to impose that helplessness onto Maggie or anyone else in the group. Nothing was more awkward than having your significant other's dad sit you down to tell you to get your act together, he said. It was dumb luck, he joked, that he got to play that role with her.

With time brought reflection. It was difficult not to repeatedly turn the argument around in her head. Michonne had been right to question Daryl because his decision was emotional and colored by his own fears. They were always better when they had each other's backs. But he had been right to think of everyone's safety, including her own, and go with his gut when opportunity came beating down their door. And his concerns were good ones, as difficult as that was to admit. Sometimes Michonne's hatred for the Governor blazed so brightly who was to say what she'd do if and when they finally confronted him? Being a member of any close-knit community meant that she had to accept the dark truths about herself rather than letting her own demons create problems that aren't there. And she couldn't ignore that part of Daryl's hesitation was due to how much she meant to him.

Another impasse. And going on week three of not addressing the situation, neither knew how to cross it.

* * *

_When Michonne walked into her cell, there was a package sitting on her bed. It was some kind of small bundle, probably a cloth bag or small article of clothing. She reached around to take off her katana to rest against the wall and then sat down on the bunk to consider the object next to her. _

_Upon further inspection, she noticed that the foreign object wasn't a bundle of cloth but a rectangular-shaped package of some sort, wrapped with a scrap of clothing. And she'd seen it before on someone if she was remembering correctly. _

_Michonne glanced from the object to the area beyond her cell and found the man in question lurking at the entrance. His arms were crossed defensively but he shuffled into her space, leaning against the doorway. _

"_You gon' just let it sit there?" he asked stiffly. She couldn't tell by his expression whether it was hostility or nerves driving his harsh tone._

_But Michonne was speechless. Was this a peace offering? Was he returning something she'd left in his room as a symbol of finality? His ambiguity about it would be more frustrating if she didn't have similar unreadable ways. _

_She reached out and picked up the package, now recognizing the cloth item surrounding it: it was Daryl's, part of an old shirt he'd said something about turning into a bag. She also immediately identified what was enclosed inside the scrap of clothing. _

_Flipping the object over, she untied the material to reveal a slim book, plain, older print by the look of it. It had a black cover and the title "The Case of the Missing Man," in bold typography across the front. _

_The questions were evident in her expression as she glanced up at him. She was a reader, for sure, but this didn't seem like some random book he'd picked up for her. And the title? Was that supposed to mean something to her? She thought back to part of the reason they were fighting in the first place: the Governor. The man's mere existence had caused enough trouble in her life of late. If the book was referring to that, she didn't want to bother with solving that mystery. She knew how it would end—with the Governor dead and a blade through his head. _

_No, she was more interested in the man who'd been missing from her inner circle the last few weeks._

_Noticing that her thoughts were going a mile a minute, Daryl crossed the cell and sat next to her, taking the book from her hands. "Heard it aint even good but I thought you might like it." He paused and flipped the book around before handing it back to her. "Andrea gave it to me a while back. It was like a present—a 'sorry I fucked up and I feel like shit' kinda thing." _

_Michonne's breath hitched and that familiar tightness came over her, the one she experienced every time she thought of someone she'd failed and lost. Running her fingers along the cover, she opened the book and flipped through the pages as if the answer to all her complications would jump off the paper. _

_When she felt like she could actually string a few words together after her emotional reaction, she wasn't even sure what to ask. "Andrea gave this to you," she repeated, still trying to put the pieces together. _

_Daryl shifted next to her but didn't get up. "Yeah. Don't make no damn sense, right? Even told her so, askin' where all the pictures were." Michonne smiled at that. She could completely believe that kind of charming, self-deprecating quip would come out of his smart mouth. It was a quality she found endearing. Perhaps spurred on by her mirth, Daryl continued. "It was back when we were still on Hershel's farm, camping out on the edge 'a the land like some damn fools danglin' a snack in front 'a the walkers. I'd gone out huntin' for Sophia and got pretty messed up. Came stumblin' back all crazy looking and out 'a my mind. She mistook me for a walker and shot me. Could'a killed me too, 'cept she only grazed me on the side 'a the head."_

_Michonne nodded as he explained. "I remember her telling me about it. She was all gung ho about learning how to shoot rather than getting stuck with the women-folk cooking and cleaning like a good housewife." _

_Grinning shyly at her, Daryl chanced catching her gaze. "Yeah, she and Lori got into it about that I heard." He sobered and seemed to shift his attention elsewhere. "Anyway, I wadn't even gon' keep it 'cause what the hell am I gon' do with a book 'sides use it for kindlin'. But I aint used to gettin' presents so I kep' it, just 'cause." He leaned over resting his arms against his thighs. "Don't think she'd mind me givin' it to ya. Figured you might like to have it too since it came from her." _

_Michonne felt something crack inside her heart thinking of her old, deceased friend as well as the close friend next to her, very much alive. Alive and trying to make amends. "She didn't tell me about the apology part. I wish she had but I guess it would have ruined the surprise." They both laughed and the last of the tension seemed to leave the room. _

"_Well, don't nobody ever talk about the sorrys when the fight's the better story." Michonne had placed the book on her lap and was now rubbing the cloth he'd wrapped it in, threading it through her fingers to feel the familiar roughness of it. _

"_The fight's never the better story when people get hurt," Michonne said, looking down. "Or do the hurting," she added._

_They sat in silence thinking about that. After a minute, Michonne reached across the space between them and took his hand; Daryl immediately wrapped his fingers around hers in welcome. Her remaining walls came down with that simple contact. She wanted to remember this, that he had taken the first step. The man she'd known to be broken and guarded, even with family, had put himself out there for her. It humbled her and she wanted to savor this feeling._

_She turned her head to face him and waited for him to meet her gaze. "It was both of us. I'm sorry too." Daryl sighed and nodded but didn't respond. Michonne secured the book against her and closed the distance between them by scooting over to his side. He lifted himself up to meet her. Pulling her legs up, she burrowed into him, laying her head on his shoulder. Daryl was stiff at first, possibly out of practice with how they held each other. But he got the hang of it back pretty quickly as he leaned into her as well. He raised their joined hands to his lips and brushed several kisses across her fingers. _

_They let the moments of comfort linger before she released his hand and went back to paging through the book. _

"_You really gon' read that? Andrea made it sound like it sucked."_

_Michonne laughed. "You mean to tell me you didn't read it to confirm?"_

_Daryl sucked his teeth at her. "I told ya, all them words and aint no pictures? Don't sound like my thing."_

_She folded the piece of cloth Daryl had wrapped the book in and slid it into the first chapter as a convenient bookmark. "Well, if she said it wasn't good then I'll have to read it and see whether I agree with her or not." Closing the book, she grasped his hand again. "Besides, it'll feel like I'm sharing something with her even though she's gone." _

_She laid her head back onto his shoulder and reflected on the new link Daryl had created with the only other person she'd completely trusted after the apocalypse. She didn't have the words to tell him how profoundly touched she was by the offering. He probably didn't even realize the scope of the kindness; he just did it to make things right. She made a silent promise to repay his thoughtfulness._

"_Come here," Daryl said, dropping her hand and scooting back onto the bed until he was leaning against the wall. He lifted his arm and waited for her to crawl towards him so he could hold her. "How 'bout we share it too. You read it for the both 'a us and tell me how it is."_

_Michonne grinned. "That sounds nice." _

_Before settling into him, she tipped her head up and felt his lips meet hers in the first kiss they'd shared in weeks. He stroked her cheek and pressed himself more securely around her. She squeezed his thigh in return and hungrily tasted him, never feeling as if she'd get her fill. It was desperate and tender and altogether satisfying. _

_Pulling away, she kissed his neck and snuggled into his shoulder. "I missed you."_

_He squeezed her in his arms and nodded his agreement. "Wadn't even really mad at ya after a while, just frustrated. And I didn't know how to handle it or what you wanted from me."_

"_I know. I was being hard-headed and punishing your for my own regrets. I'm sorry for what I said."_

"_Hey, no more 'a that. We're good. Least now I got a sense 'a how to keep off your bad side." Michonne smiled sadly in acceptance. _

_They rested against the wall and each other, holding hands and sharing an occasional kiss. __As they shifted to a better position, the bed creaked and moaned underneath them. Daryl smirked at her. "Best get that fixed, speakin' 'a being back on your good side." There was a running joke about anyone requesting the WD-40 for their bunks and Michonne was not looking forward to the ribbing, especially given what it implied about her and Daryl. _

_Rolling her eyes, Michonne nudged him in jest and he unlatched two of her coat buttons to sneak a hand underneath her shirts. That led to a lengthy session of wandering hands that built to a breathless release of moderate frustration. __Unfortunately, there was a longstanding agreement that the middle of the day inside her cell wasn't the best time to be having sex, even much anticipated make-up sex. Instead, they settled on sitting together and enjoying their closeness. __Michonne had put Daryl's gift off to the side so she could cuddle fully into him. _

_They listened to the daily life going on around them as they held fast to each other. Footsteps echoed throughout the hallways and from a distance, Beth's laughter could be heard rising above the sound of objects being moved._

_Michonne sighed deeply, truly grateful that they were back in each other's arms. "Bringing me that book was perfect, Daryl. But tell me, who's idea was it?" He pulled away from her slightly and she popped her head up to catch his offended scoff._

"_Was my idea, woman!" Michonne tilted her head and continued to fix him with her death stare. "So maybe the peanut gallery had an idea or two. You know everybody 'round here is nosy as hell. They were itchin' to get all up in our business." Michonne's probing stare softened and a grin appeared on her face. Oh yeah, she knew quite well how "concerned" their friends were about them. "They might 'a said I should make, uh, what you call it, a 'gesture'," he emphasized. "But I chose the gesture and I thought the book'd be real nice."_

"_It is. I love it." She hesitated but only for a moment before reaching down and grabbing his ass. "I promise to return the favor later."_

_Daryl laughed. "Hell yeah, you will. We both got a lotta makin' up to do." She kissed him once more and accepted that the matter had been put to rest._

* * *

"So are you guys good?"

Michonne had heard Carl come into the room with Judith. She casually wondered if he was going to stop and chastise her about being social or head into the room to join the group.

And she didn't need any clarification about what situation he was talking about. He'd kept her company the most during her withdrawal from Daryl and the rest of the community. But he'd been practically the only one not to bring up their fight. Michonne suspected that he wasn't keen on bonding over mushy adult relationship business. It was ironic since they had bonded because she was the only one who didn't treat him like a kid.

She smiled at the boy and took Judith from him. "Why? You got some advice for me?" Judith cooed and tried reaching for Michonne's hair.

Carl laughed. "Nah. That's grown-up stuff." He grabbed Judith's foot and tickled it. From across the room, she saw Rick turn and smile at the three of them before returning his attention back to the game and his conversation with Carol. Daryl was shuffling cards but she caught his eye briefly as he smirked at the picture of her with the baby.

"You guys are really sweet together." Michonne whipped her head around to question her young friend. The last word she'd use to describe her or Daryl, much less the both of them together, was "sweet."

Carl shrugged. "I mean, you're both still scary killers and all," he added almost dismissively. "It's just that you're always taking care of us so it's cool to see you taking care of each other."

Michonne flashed him a skeptical look. "And here I thought you weren't interested in grown-folk business." Carl shrugged and resumed his efforts to make Judith giggle. Michonne uttered playful words to the baby before handing her back to her brother. "Well, don't you worry then because we're good." Carl smiled with a suspicious smugness and left her side to hand the baby off to his father. From the table there was a huge uproar as Glenn took the pot.

The poker game was on pause, Sasha busy collecting and then shuffling cards while everyone counted their chips and exchanged smack talk to boost their intimidation factor. Although she didn't hear what was specifically said, Maggie had apparently called Glenn out on something and everyone was heckling and joking at his expense.

In the lull of dying laughter, Daryl tilted his head, beckoning her to come to him. She paused and thought about it for a moment. She wasn't sure she liked the idea of Daryl summoning her in front of people. However, the sexy grin on his face made it seem like it might be worth her while. So she stalked towards him and felt a twinge of satisfaction when he shifted in his chair and turned away from the sight of her. Apparently he was still thinking about that lost time they both owed each other.

When she reached the table, Sasha was finishing her shuffling and teasing Hershel about whether he was ready to call it a night. Daryl slid his arm around Michonne's waist and pulled her to him. Unsurprisingly, his hand started to wander, leaving her to cover it with hers and return it to a safe position.

It was a simple exchange but a reassuring one. They were indeed good.

"Oh no you don't," Glenn said from across the table. I am _not_ playing poker with Michonne. No way. I live with enough fear in my daily life without having to think about trying to bluff my way through that," he added, pointing towards her usually stoic face.

Michonne shook her head, amused. "I don't even play poker that well. Spades is my game."

"So you say, like I'm supposed to believe that. We let you sit down and next thing you know, we're all eating standard rations for the rest of winter while you're living it up with our snacks. Right guys?" Glenn turned to Sasha who had been dealing cards during his tirade.

Sasha gave a stiff shake of the head as she doled out a card to each player. "Uh, yeah. Sorry, doll, too risky."

Michonne turned to Maggie. "Uh uh. I know better. You know I know better."

Hershel sat quietly looking at his cards as they came to him. "Michonne, you are always welcome at my table." There was a twinkle in his eye and now Michonne was sure he had something up his sleeve. Her smile at him was both in thanks and an acknowledgment of his scheming ways.

Glenn stared at his cards. "Don't even bother asking Daryl. He just got out of the dog house and can't be trusted to give an honest answer. Besides, I'm sure he's got a different kind of 'poker' in mind for you." He grinned across the table but was met with a glare from Daryl as Michonne stared down at him with wry amusement. Maggie leaned over and swiped at his shoulder.

"Hey, I'm just kidding, geez." He frowned and then narrowed his eyes at Michonne. "Wait, I've won the last three hands—that's every hand since you showed up. On second thought, pull up a chair and join us."

Daryl dropped his hand from her waist and picked up his cards. "What do ya say, babe? I can teach you a thing or two; have you cleanin' up in no time."

This felt weird although it was also nice, the joking and inclusion, the casual public connection between her and Daryl. She wouldn't say she was comfortable, per se, but for the first time, this scene of family and relaxation seemed like something she might actually want to be a part of.

But not tonight.

"Sorry, I have watch in a bit. I just popped in for a minute before going to grab some food. Maybe next time." She briefly touched the nape of Daryl's neck and tangled her fingers in the shaggy hair hanging down over his neck. Even to her, this felt like a genuine postponement rather than her usual veiled rejection.

She moved her hand to Daryl's shoulder. "I'll see you later okay."

Daryl stared at his cards but reached up to squeeze her hand. "I'll be there in a minute."

Michonne leaned into his shoulder to check out the cards in his hand. "Yeah, it looks like you will." She pulled away and stepped back from the table.

"I knew it," Glenn muttered while staring at his chips. "She's a ringer."

"Sonofabitch. That wadn't even right, Michonne," Daryl called after her. "She gotta point though," he added before throwing his cards down. "I fold. Who wants my pile?"

Glenn shrugged, throwing some chips into the pile with a sly smirk. "Still feeling lucky, are you?" Before Daryl could comment, Carl had hopped around from the other side of the table and practically pushed him out of the seat.

"Seriously?" Glenn whined. "First, the scary Samurai lady and now the pint-sized walker assassin? Thanks, Daryl. You too, Michonne. I take it back, I like when you two are fighting. The next time I mention making a gesture, just ignore me."

"If you'd like, I could return 'a gesture' for you. Might not be as nice as the original though," Michonne answered sweetly. As she walked away, she raised her hand and flashed her middle finger, somehow making the act seem dangerous, teasing and classy all at the same time. Everyone in the room howled and oohed over the burn, even Glenn.

Daryl put his arm around her and led them towards the exit. "That's my girl." He kissed the side of her head and waved the room goodbye. As they got closer to the entryway, he murmured in her ear, "We really goin' to dinner? 'Cause I got some ideas for us stirrin' and you might need to refuel afterwards."

Michonne grabbed his hand at her shoulder as they passed through the doorway and into a future of their own making.

"Lead the way."

* * *

_**AN: I've got one more chapter in my pocket and then that'll be it for a while (I tend not to write for a show when it's on its run). But I'll try to get the last thing spruced up and posted before Sunday. Thanks again for reading and for the kind reviews.**_


	7. Chapter 7

_**Author's Note: Just a heads up that there are a couple of very minor spoilers in this chapter for the first episode of Season 4. If you're averse to knowing any of the details for the new season, you might want to wait a bit before reading.**_

* * *

**Chapter 7: Cleansing**

As Daryl turned the corner towards the outside exit, he nodded a greeting at the two older women he passed coming from the laundry area. It was a few hours before the sun would set and things were winding down for the day. There were several people milling about but most of the prison's occupants were in the mess hall taking advantage of the latest meal. The game he'd caught the day before was a particularly big hit since it'd been a long time since anyone had feasted on fresh meat.

The watch shift had changed a while back and it seemed all the day's chores had been completed. Even though the snows had melted and spring would be upon them soon, it was still too cold to be venturing outdoors without a good reason. No one would be randomly hanging out in the back, or at least Daryl was banking on that.

He'd just come from a meeting with the other group members who'd taken a leadership role and he was feeling a little cagey. Without even thinking too much about it, he went in search of Michonne and his preference was that she was alone when he found her. A quick peek into her empty cell was a disappointment but a brief look around gave him a clue about where she'd likely be.

Getting organized as a group had been one of the first things that happened when the Woodbury folks joined. They'd formed the so-called council he was on and tried to get some order restored after the chaos of the previous few weeks. It was then that Daryl became the go-to guy for security. He kept up with the watch schedules and addressed any potential weak spots on the perimeter. Tyreese being in charge of fortifications and repairs worked a lot with him to keep all the fences and entryways sealed off. Glenn and Sasha usually coordinated the runs. Carol and a couple of the survivors from Woodbury took care of things on the inside of the prison like kitchen and kid duties and keeping track of supplies. Weapons were always the priority on Carol's list, both stock and training, while Beth and a few others handled other domestic tasks. Hershel, with the help of Rick, focused on long-term planning, especially all the farming proposals for spring. Apparently, it was important to get the soil ready and materials coordinated but Daryl didn't know much about that. He went hunting every now and again and there were the runs but that's about as involved with the food situation as he wanted to be.

Everyone else at the prison tended to fall in line around the main taskmasters and most managed to keep busy and make life worth something again. Michonne was one of those people that filled in where necessary. She wasn't shy about sharing ideas with the group but she also didn't want to be in charge of anyone. She definitely had strengths that made her indispensible, though. When it came to any errand outside the prison, she was always the first choice because she knew how to take care of herself.

Before meeting her, Daryl didn't think there was anyone out there more averse to people than he was but she had proven him wrong. And now he was trying his hand at running things and she was an official "productive member of the community." Yet even after almost two years of being with the group, he still liked those moments to himself free of the hectic energy that surrounded the community he swore to protect. Michonne similarly was usually on the periphery, never at the center of the conversation but content to watch from the sidelines while she exercised or did idle chores. After a while, people just got used to her ways rather than forcing her to be someone she wasn't. The only group things she committed to were hanging out with the kids and farming with Rick and Carl; and when it came to the latter she basically did what she was told since she didn't know much about agriculture. Her volunteering, she'd confessed, was because she liked their kind of calm company.

Daryl wondered about her solitary nature sometimes. There was an inkling in the back of his mind that she hadn't always been like that. He was bred to be a loner and learned early on how to fend for himself. However, Michonne's insular personality seemed steeped in loss rather than habit; embracing isolation wasn't who she was, it was how she coped. Perhaps he'd never know the details but this world had done a number on her.

The chilled air had seeped its way into the room closest to the exit. All this bundling up and hiding out indoors was getting to Daryl. He was starting to crave that deep Georgia heat even though it meant spending more time fighting off the undead. He paused to zip up his jacket and brace himself for the onslaught of frosty weather; opening the door, he winced at the gust of cold wind that hit him in the face. However, Michonne was right where he suspected he'd find her. She was tending to her new hobby by fixing up her gear, specifically cleaning her saddle and its attachments.

Leave it this woman to go out on a run and bring back a damn horse.

"Hey." She shifted her head to the side in acknowledgment but didn't pause her repetitive motion against the rich leather underneath the sponge in her hand. That had been happening a lot the last couple of days, her intense focus on a task when he'd stumble upon her around the prison grounds.

He walked towards her, noting how she had the saddle straddling her bench with her cleaning items spread out across the table next to her. As he approached her seating area, she dipped the sponge into the bucketful of water at her feet and continued with her meticulous stroking. Her katana rested on the table as well, conveniently placed for quick retrieval given the right kind of threat or the wrong kind of mood.

Daryl didn't wait for more of a reaction before hopping on the table behind her, his leg casually brushing her back as he propped both of them up on the bench. The slight touch interrupted her steady rhythm, albeit only for a moment.

He leaned over casually from atop the table. "Been a change in plans. Everybody's still squirrely 'bout it though. They think it's a crap shoot." He stared at Michonne's back as she resumed that back and forth motion against the saddle. She nodded and inspected her work before wetting her sponge again.

"Maybe it is and maybe it isn't but it's still best that we do it." She settled the sponge back onto the leather, focusing her attention on a section around the front. "It's not like you don't know that though. So what's the change?"

Daryl picked up one of the leather straps laying on the table that she'd taken off the saddle. He didn't know shit about horses so damned if he had any idea what it was called. Nevertheless, he reached around Michonne to grab a spare cloth and began wiping it down like he'd seen her do.

"Yeah, we do know. Aint gonna argue on that." They worked silently next to each other for a few moments before he spoke again. "Sasha's out; says she don't wanna go now."

That got Michonne's full attention and she straightened herself to twist around to face him. "Why not? She seemed fine with it yesterday when we talked about it."

"Who knows? Maybe she got cold feet or somethin' better to do. Hell, could be she's on the rag for all I care. Point is, she aint goin' no more." He ignored her glare at his explanation. It was more amusing than scary to him these days. "Don't gimme that look. Ask her yourself if ya want. You aint going out there alone if that's what got you riled up."

Michonne rolled her eyes and returned to her polishing. "Right. Because I'm known for how worried I get when I'm on my own." Daryl nudged her back with his knee at her sarcasm. "Figured you and the other folks on the council wouldn't be keen on a solo trip. Who's the replacement? And it better be someone good." She flashed him a warning look and wagged a finger at him. "I'm not spending three days out in the sticks with someone who's going to work my nerves." There wasn't anyone at the prison that she disliked really but there were quite a few he knew would try her patience if they were trapped together for more than half an hour.

Maybe it wasn't the smartest move but Daryl liked the idea of teasing her a little so stalled. Sure enough, when he didn't respond right away she got worried and paused again to catch his eye. "Daryl," she warned. But he simply stared at her with a satisfied grin on his face. Understanding dawned and she suppressed a grin. Really?" She tried not to seem too impressed as she returned to the object in front of her.

Daryl's face fell a fraction. "That all you gotta say on it?" His nervous chuckle broke Michonne's resolve and he caught her cracking a smile.

She appeared to think about the news for a moment and then let out a short burst of laughter. When her expression sobered, she shook her head. "No, it's just that I have a good idea of why Sasha dropped out. She _was_ the one who suggested you replace her, right?"

Now he was getting annoyed, like she knew a bunch of stuff but wasn't telling him. He didn't like keeping secrets, especially when it had to do with business. "How'd ya know?" Michonne didn't miss a stroke as she ignored his frown, her swipes steady against the leather contraption at her lap.

"Just a conversation we had yesterday when we were planning stuff out. You know, girl talk."

"Girl talk? What the hell's that gotta do with this run?" His irritation only increased her amusement. He should have known teasing her would backfire. Damn woman had turned the tables on him without so much as a whiff of mischief.

"I may have let it slip what happened the last time we went on a run together. Me, you, a hatchback and some time to kill on a chilly afternoon." From what he could see of her expression, there wasn't a hint of modesty about it.

The built up tension in him receded as he recalled that particular day of errands. Damn, they'd been good together. Just thinking about it got him all stirred up. In the back of that shitty car, they'd experienced the kind of freedom as a couple that you rarely had opportunity for being cooped up in close quarters at the prison.

They both reflected on the memories for a spell before she spoke again. "I'm thinking that's she handing me an early birthday present?"

Forgetting the strap in his hand, Daryl took in her profile, trying to read her. "You sayin' your birthday is 'round this time? How does Sasha know that and I don't?"

Michonne shrugged. "It was a long conversation. And she asked. Besides, I wasn't one to care before the world went to hell. I'm not about to start now." She dropped the sponge into the bucket and picked up another one of the cloths from the table. "Holding on to that kind of thing is important to some people like Sasha so I'm not going to begrudge them. Especially if it ends up to my benefit," she added giving him an alluring sideways glance.

Daryl narrowed his eyes at her and when she didn't react further, he shook his head and focused on his own busy work. "Women." His statement was sharp but there was a smile tugging at his lips when he said it. "I don't know why y'all always tryin' to run shit on the side."

Michonne full-out laughed at him. Daryl loved that sound on the rare occasions that he got to witness it. "Actually, I only mentioned that run to her in passing but I didn't suggest that we change our plans. I can go ask her to reconsider if her tactics were too underhanded for you."

"Naw, I guess I can live with it," he joked, peering down at her. Michonne nudged his knee with her elbow but she had a smile on her face when she did it.

Because of the weather, they tried to keep runs down to a minimum. It was too risky to venture out in the world when it wasn't necessary. In fact, they'd only been out twice since the snows melted: two quick trips, one of which was when Michonne stumbled upon her horse. Daryl had rallied the council around Michonne's idea to do an extended run and scope out some of the surrounding area. It was a good tactic for security reasons and it was necessary for adding to their supplies while identifying farther out locations they might need to hit come spring. As agreed upon by the council, he and Michonne would go alone because they were, by far, the stealthiest of the group. It also helped that Daryl's hunting skills could potentially score them some more fresh meat to add to his recent score. Michonne's knowledge of the area and her strategic instincts were the backbone to assessing any threats and doing reconnaissance for their future needs.

And three whole days with only each other's company? He was going to obsess about that up until they drove out the prison gates.

They again sat quietly together, settling back into the still mood from before. He felt the wind rustle his hair and noted a few birds flying overhead as they returned from their migration. With the sun still beating down on them, it wasn't as cold as Daryl had expected although when the wind picked up, it was hard to keep the chill out. It was actually a clear, pretty day and Daryl could understand why Michonne would want to be out here working instead of being cooped up in the prison or in the barn. And she spent a lot of time in the barn since getting that horse two weeks ago.

He hadn't been with her when she found it, but Glenn had mentioned how eager Michonne was to keep it like they were talking about a puppy or a hamster. Glenn told her she was crazy but Michonne had instantly tamed the beast and rode it back to the prison like a boss. After that introduction, she'd thrown herself into caring for it when she wasn't needed elsewhere.

Breaking into his thoughts, she asked, "You come all the way out here to tell me about the run?" Adding some wax to her cloth, she began to polish the saddle with the same intensity as before. That focus on her task had returned and he sensed a touch of tension in the question.

Daryl finished with one strap and replaced it with another one that Michonne hadn't yet gotten to. "Yep. Came to deliver the news myself. We gotta start plannin' and stuff."

"Hmm," was her noncommittal response. They continued to work in concert, Michonne bending over her saddle and Daryl behind her with the other equipment.

"You doin' alright out here," he asked, finally. It wasn't an accusatory question, merely curious.

Michonne's hand stilled and she stared down at her work as if inspecting every molecule. After careful scrutiny, she resumed her circular motions. Her response, or lack thereof rather, drew his concern. He stopped his polishing and set the cloth and strap on the table next to him. When he reached down to stroke her cheek while pulling her hair back, he saw her gaze flick briefly to the katana resting in front of her. She closed her eyes and leaned back against his leg, allowing herself a moment of comfort with him.

"I'm alright." Her towel lay on the saddle forgotten as she breathed evenly while resting against Daryl. "I guess I just wanted some quiet."

Daryl nodded. Placing a hand on her shoulder, he gently pushed her off of his knee before lowering himself onto the bench behind her and taking her into his arms. She sighed and molded herself against him.

She had been on edge for a few days now. There was the jumpiness and how alert she'd become at the smallest provocation. In a structure like the prison, everything echoed and bounced across the hard surfaces. Mostly, you learned to tune out the more routine noise. Yet for people like Daryl and Michonne, assessing every sound for danger is what had kept them alive so far. Shutting off their instincts didn't come easy.

But it was something more lately with her, he just couldn't put his finger on what it was about. No one else thought much of her distance. He knew better though, and had recognized a slight shift in her mood since acquiring the brown horse she'd named Flame. Whatever the problem, she wasn't hiding it from him; it was more that she hadn't been ready to talk about it. The three days alone might give her the space to share her concerns with him.

Daryl tensed and then pulled Michonne closer. Now, Sasha's change of plans made sense.

It wasn't an early birthday present or some personal issue. She was Michonne's friend; it hadn't escaped her notice either that something was off. And she was also hoping that the time away with him would help her open up. He'd been right about her trying to run some shit on the side but he was grateful for it.

Michonne reached for her katana and laid it across the newly cleaned saddle but she didn't unsheath it. Daryl moved his hands at her hips, rubbing circles against her with his thumbs. His chin rested on her shoulder waiting for her next move.

At the top of her saya, she lifted a flap in the binding to reveal a tiny slip of material reflecting in the waning light. She paused, tracing the protrusion and then slowly teased it out of its hiding spot. The scrap was wrapped in a tight plastic and rolled neatly and precisely. Opening up the item with care, she revealed the weathered wallet-sized photo: two smiling little girls, happy and thrilled to be posing for their mother.

He'd only seen this once before and just like then, it was a harsh reminder of everything tragic about this world. It was also a reminder of how amazingly resilient the woman in his arms was.

Daryl kissed Michonne's cheek before tightening his hold again and nuzzling into her neck and shoulder. "Such precious li'l ones. Probably woulda' been total badasses too, no matter what." He pointed to the youngest girl who was grinning wickedly at her sister. "'Specially that one right there. I can see the grit in her eyes, just like you." It warmed him to pick up the hint of a sad smile on her face. "Them there li'l girls? They'd be right proud 'a their mama." He meant it too. They were so obviously carefree and excited in this picture taken about a year before everything went to shit. And they had been a part of her, the best parts she claimed. He thought she was pretty amazing now so he could imagine how much more beautiful she'd been before; way out of his league for sure.

"I learned to ride because of them. They fell in love the first time I took them out to the country; said they were gonna be 'horse babysitters' when they grew up," she explained, a bit of brightness in her voice.

That solved the mystery of what had triggered her sadness. He'd thought that maybe she'd had a bad dream or a flashback. There were two young sisters at the prison that she'd sometimes stare at a bit too long, usually accompanied by a deeper melancholy than he was used to from her. He supposed the how and why of her mood didn't matter, only that she was having a tough time over it.

Michonne lightly caressed the images in her hand; Daryl reached out to join her tactile assessment of the two girls. He'd never get to meet them, this being the closest he'd ever come to seeing who they were. But he'd honor them by being good to their mom, just like he honored all the other innocents they'd lost for no damn good reason. He'd make their deaths mean something by helping the ones left behind to survive.

Even with the memories sitting so close to the surface, Michonne didn't cry. Daryl figured she had done enough of that in the past months. But she mourned. And through it all, he held her.

They stared down at the worn photo as the sun retreated further from them. When she'd had her fill, Michonne carefully resealed the picture before sliding it back into her katana's scabbard. Maybe some of the others would think it strange that she kept her last remnant of family there but it made sense to him. There was never a time where she was without her katana and saya. And keeping them so close to her weapon was a reminder of how important it was to protect the ones you love. Not that the others had any idea about her past. Very few were privy to that part of her life, only he and Carl really. And Carl understood the significance of her gesture better than most folks three times his age.

Her weapon returned to its former spot, she resettled in his arms, finding his hands wrapped around her waist and intertwining their fingers. The light faded from the sky as he rocked her gently every so often, hoping it would sooth her frayed emotions. Finally, she leaned back to offer a chaste brush of her lips to his before letting go and organizing her cleaning supplies and now clean equipment. Daryl didn't want to move and Michonne seemed not to mind. So he remained behind her, a silent, calming presence massaging her back while she prepared to return back to the civilization and community waiting for her inside.

"You want me to take that out to the barn for ya?" He stroked her arm, feeling the stress leave her muscles with his touch.

She briefly squeezed his thigh and shook her head. "I'll take it out in the morning. Thank you though."

Watching her store everything away to its ordered place, he pulled her hair behind her ear and placed his head against hers. "How you gon' get all this stuff back to your bunk?"

He felt her chuckle vibrate along his skin. It was a scintillating sensation but so were a lot of things he associated with her. "Got it out here didn't I?"

"Good point," he murmured in her ear before kissing it.

Daryl moved his hand farther up Michonne's leg to grip her thigh but made no move to face her. He realized it was probably best that they wander back inside but he did enjoy being like this with her, both in the good times and the not so good ones. They were each other's comfort in an insane, dangerous world. And with the spring and summer coming on, after their run together, moments like these would be few and far between.

And her desire for quiet held another meaning, too, one to which they tended to only submit privately.

He smiled as she casually reached up to let her fingers linger at the nape of his neck. It was fun when they got on the same wavelength without even knowing it. "Thanks for the company. You're still the best kind of quiet," reminding him of that first time they'd connected together. Her teasing touch made his breath hitch and his hand give her hip an involuntary squeeze.

Oh, that had been another good run, just the two of them. That felt like both yesterday and ages ago.

"Likewise," he responded. At last, she swiveled ever so slightly to face him and met his lips for a soft touch of her mouth against his. Taking in a breath, he began exploring her with a practiced thoroughness and felt her lean into him. They let the sensation simmer over them, Michonne sliding her fingers through his dingy hair and Daryl's nails scraping against her dirt-encrusted slacks. When they pulled away, she settled against him once more and held him to her.

They remained sitting close until the sun's descent plunged their nook into a deep shadow. It would be evening soon and the watch shifts would need changing and they both would want some dinner. Plus, Daryl hadn't been entirely kidding about needing to take the evening to coordinate the run and fill in the rest of the group about their plans.

With one last caress to his hand, Michonne rose and carried the bucket at her feet to the edge of the building. Probably someone else in the prison had some use for the used water. An unwelcome cold from her retreat and the absent sun forced a frown from Daryl.

The rustling of her movements signaled a return to responsibility. In the distance, Karen and Glenn met along the fence, exchanging information and getting updates as Glenn relieved her from watch. Maggie appeared a moment later and the two women shared a laugh before Karen re-directed herself and left the two alone. Judging from Glenn's body language, he wasn't nearly as amused as the two women so their joke must have been at his expense. However, he did seem to now notice the presence of Michonne and Daryl facing them from afar. He muttered something to Maggie and they both smiled a little too cheekily before waving at the two.

"I don't even want to know what that was about. None of it," Michonne said, raising a hand in greeting and grabbing the saddle from the bench. She'd loaded up the rest of the gear and supplies into a canvas bag and had slipped it onto her shoulder while his attention was diverted to the others.

Daryl gave a half-hearted wave as well from his seat. "No kiddin'," he agreed. "Aint no tellin' with those two." He made no move to get up but just turned so he could lean back with his elbows resting against the table. "Maybe they're thinkin' you like that horse more 'n you like me, as much energy you put into keepin' that beast up. Maybe you need to start takin' care 'a your man as good as you take care of that animal." He tilted his head towards her with a smirk meant to rile her up. Judging by the side eye she was giving him, it had worked like a charm.

A moment later, she smirked back though. "I'll take that under advisement. But something tells me that Glenn and Maggie have better things to discuss than whether I'm giving you enough personal attention." She strolled around the table but stopped to rest the saddle while she finished their conversation. "They're ones to talk anyway," she added, nodding towards the retreating couple. "They've probably had sex all over this place by now."

Daryl couldn't argue with that speculation. "I say they can have this place. We'll take our show on the road." He tossed her another heated leer over his shoulder and sensed his pulse quicken when Michonne returned it.

"You staying out a while?" She'd picked up the saddle again and wandered to the door, expecting to leave him behind.

Daryl shrugged. "I'll be around in a while." It was still kinda nice out and he didn't mind enjoying the peace and quiet for a little longer. A genuine appreciation for that down time was another way they fit so well together.

Michonne didn't answer just opened the door and slipped inside. No goodbyes. No acknowledgments. They didn't need that.

Instead Daryl sat in the approaching dimness, waiting a few more minutes before heading across the yard to do a random perimeter check. Despite his eagerness to get away for a while, he would still worry about his group, his family, while he was gone. It'd make him feel better to be a little extra diligent with the security until he and Michonne took off.

When he stood up at last, he noticed that Michonne had dropped one of her polishing cloths under the table, the one she usually used to wipe down her katana. She had probably set it aside so it wouldn't get mixed up with the other swathes of material. When he picked it up, he could smell the odor of steel and the strange woodsy solution she sometimes used to clean the handle. The combination would always remind him of her.

Perhaps he'd conveniently forget to return it to her until it was time to hunker down for the night. Nothing was much better than being quiet together with her.

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**_AN: And that's it for now. Apologies for any wonkiness. I wanted to get this done before the premiere so sometimes the editing suffers for the rush. _**

**_Thanks for reading and bearing with me as I got through this series. It was a really fun challenge and I appreciate all of the feedback and PMs and alerts to let me know your impressions. _**


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